In the Shadows
by SilverBelle11
Summary: In the midst of the turmoil known as the War of the Ring, the people of Middle Earth are banding together, setting aside old arguments to fight a fearsome foe in the east. For one hobbit, the world as he knows it is falling apart, and just when things seem to be at their worst, a mysterious stranger with incredible power and unknown intentions emerges from the Shadows...
1. Prologue

In The Shadows:

Middle Earth

It was the day before the 111st birthday of Bilbo Baggins. It was also the 33rd birthday of his cousin Frodo Baggins. This day would change the course of history in the world & mark the beginning of the end of the Age….

Bilbo & his long time friend, Gandalf sat idly chatting and smoking on the front porch of Bag End. The day was sunny and pleasantly warm. A light breeze went across the front lawn bringing with it the scent of the bakery just down the road.

As Bilbo continued with a joke he was telling, Gandalf sat up suddenly, listening. "There's a storm coming…" he mused.

"Nonsense!" Bilbo protested. "It's beautiful out today!"

"No…" As soon as this word was spoken, a gusty wind from the west blew a dark cloud over the town of Hobbiton.

"Gandalf?" Bilbo asked, becoming afraid now. Gandalf was silent. Watching. Waiting.

"There…" Gandalf murmured, pointing down the road. He stood quietly, a steady hand rested on his staff. Bilbo followed the Wizard's gaze.

A tall, dark figure, dressed solely in black, was slowly advancing down the windy path. A hood was over his head, and a dark mist covered his face obscuring the features. In the wind, a black cloak billowed behind him.

"Who goes there?" Gandalf called to the figure threateningly. The dark man was silent. "Be you friend or foe?" He just kept walking slowly. Advancing around Bilbo's little garden & through his tiny gate, the man strode, still silently, up to the porch. Gandalf was now defensively placed between the newcomer & Bilbo with his staff poised. "HALT!" this time, the figure obeyed. He stood less than five feet from Gandalf. With fluid motions, a gloved hand reached out with a piece of paper. Gandalf took it warily.

There was a note on the paper, written in bold, but delicately flowing handwriting:

_Gandalf the Grey,_

_You are wrong. A storm is not coming, a storm is already upon you. Look for me in days to come, but hope you do not find me._

There was no signature. Slightly shaken, Gandalf looked up for some sort of an explanation, but when he looked up, the man was gone. The storm was gone as well. It was as if nothing had happened at all. Turning around, it was confirmed that he hadn't imagined the man. Bilbo was frozen in his chair. A look of absolute horror was seemingly plastered in his wide eyes. Gandalf's hand closed & another reminder came from the dull crunch of the paper that was clutched in it…..


	2. Chapter 1: Happenings at the Party

Ch. 1: Happenings at the Party

As Bilbo got dressed the next morning, he tried to forget the horrible figure that had visited his home the previous afternoon. He turned to find Frodo standing in the doorway watching him.

"You're leaving." he said. It was not a question.

"You know I have to." Bilbo didn't look up. Frodo nodded solemnly then left the room without another word. He walked outside to find his dearest friend, Samwise Gamgee who had been a servant at Bag End since they were both in their teens.

That evening, Bag End looked magnificent. There were ribbons, lanterns, & banners hanging from every exposed limb of every tree in the yard. Tents were set up all through the vast field that was the back yard. Hobbits from all over the Shire came for the party of the century.

Gandalf was over to the side with some of the children amusing them with firecrackers. Frodo tried to convince Sam to ask Rosie Cotton to dance while Frodo's younger cousins Pippin and Merry caused all the trouble they possibly could.

"Sam, just ask her!" Frodo pushed Sam. "I know you want to."

"I can't, Mr. Frodo! I can't do it!" Sam protested. The two looked over to see Rosie smiling at Sam. Much to his horror, she danced over & took his hands.

"Dance with me, Sam!" she pleaded. Sam looked to Frodo for help, and was answered by a hard shove from his slyly smiling friend.

Frodo laughed then sighed as he watched Sam dance off with Rosie, laughing all the way. Looking around the field and back into the brush behind him, Frodo suddenly felt a sense of sadness. Bilbo would be leaving soon. His destination? Rivendell. He had said it was where he wanted to spend his last years, but Frodo couldn't help but think that there was something more to it.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Frodo caught a flash movement. Turning to look at it, Frodo found himself staring into a face that wasn't there. The hooded creature was dressed all in black, and where its face should have been, there was only darkness. Frodo jumped up, about to scream for help when Sam came back from dancing.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Frodo!" sang Sam, grabbing Frodo and turning him away from the creature. "That was the most fun I've had in a long time!"

"You're welcome, Sam…" said Frodo, slightly distracted. He turned again to the bushes, but the figure was gone. Frodo sighed, turning back to Sam. "I'm glad you had fun."

It was at this point that Frodo's cousins from Bree, on the Brandywine River, came running up.

"Frodo! We've brought you a special present for your birthday. Come see!" one of his younger cousins called. They took him by the arms and almost dragged him away to the pond. When they reached it, there was a small boat sitting on the shore. "tadah! We've brought you a boat! You used to love to go boating…" Frodo did, but he hardly remembered it. His parents had been killed in a boating accident when he was a small child. No one could be sure how he survived since it is uncommon for a Hobbit to be able to swim, and Frodo couldn't remember anything about the event.

"Well?" one of them asked. A crowd was slowly forming and Frodo didn't want to disappoint them, so he climbed unsteadily into the boat. Sam watched nervously from the shore. Frodo's other cousins, Pippin and Merry, came over as well. They stood next to Sam.

"I told them this wasn't a good idea…" Pippin shook his head.

"I don't like it…" Merry agreed. Sam was silent.

Frodo made it to the center of the lake with no problems. Sam sighed with relief, but his comfort was premature. Frodo waved nervously to show he was alright then started to turn the boat around…

There was a loud scraping noise, followed by a terrified scream from Frodo. To the horror of everyone watching, Frodo's tiny boat had struck a rock that lay beneath the surface and began to sink. Sam ran forward as if to jump in to help Frodo, but Pippin and Merry held him back.

"We don' need to lose the both a' ya!" Merry yelled at him. Sam struggled, but to no avail. Frodo was going to drown, and there was nothing he could do about it.

The boat was completely under the water and Frodo was struggling just to keep himself above it. The shore was complete chaos. Everyone was running and screaming-everyone but Sam, Pippin, and Merry. They were frozen on the shore line, watching their friend lose the battle for his life.

From out of nowhere, Sam saw a black blur as a dark figure bounded toward the water. Without hesitation, the hooded man ran into the water, the dove beneath the blackness. Silently, the trio on the shore watched as Frodo went under. Then, to their astonishment, the man in black broke the surface of the water. He was obviously carrying more than his own weight and upon closer inspection Sam could just make out Frodo's curly hair above the water's surface.

"He's got him! He's got him!" Sam called. The shore was now lined with silently awed Hobbits. They all watched as the dark man stumbled to the shore, carrying the lifeless Hobbit, he laid him down. Placing his head on Frodo's chest, he listened for a moment, then began breathing for him and pushing down on his chest. Within moments, the half drowned Hobbit was coughing. The dark man rolled Frodo to his side & rubbed his back. Sam ran over and crouched over his friend. He took over the man's job of rubbing Frodo's back.

"Are ya alright, Mr. Frodo? We thought we'd lost ya for sure!" Sam cried. He turned to thank the man in black, but when he did, the man was gone. No one knew where he had gone. Gandalf ran over.

"What's going on here? What's all this commotion?" he saw Frodo then, "Lad, what happened to you?" Sam explained in painful detail all that had happened. "Dressed all in black, you say? Could you see his face? Hmm…this complicates things…" he sent the rest of the hobbits on about their business, then ushered Frodo and Sam into the house.


	3. Chapter 2: Complicated Things

Ch. 2: Complicated Things

Gandalf had gone. He left with no warning the same night Bilbo left for Rivendell…the only difference was, Gandalf was not specific about his destination. He had left Frodo and Sam, mumbling things like, "It can't be…doesn't make sense…need to go research…" He had taken the Ring Bilbo had left for Frodo, instructing the confused Hobbit to hide it away, never to take it out, and NEVER to put it on….

Three weeks had passed since the eventful party with no word from Gandalf. There had been no other sightings of Frodo's frighteningly mysterious savior either, and in true Hobbit fashion, all trouble was forgotten. Frodo sat by the roaring fire, reading and smoking his pipe while Sam was outside working in the gardens. There was a loud knock at the door, but as Frodo stood to answer it, the impatient guest escorted himself in.

"Gandalf!" Frodo cried, astonished.

"No time, Lad…did you keep it safe? Did you keep it secret?" the Wizard paced impatiently.

"Yes…" said the confused Frodo as he made his way slowly to the mantle above the fireplace. Pulling down a small box, he unwrapped the Ring Bilbo had given him in the weeks past. Gandalf hurriedly snatched the Ring from Frodo and tossed is into the fire. Frodo cried out and jumped after it, but Gandalf stayed him.

"I pray that I am wrong about what I believe…" the Wizard mumbled. Slowly, he took the tongs from beside the fireplace and grabbed the Ring. To Frodo's astonishment, it hadn't been hurt at all. Gandalf held the Ring out to Frodo.

"Take it," he said. "You will find it's quite cool…" Frodo took the Ring reluctantly. "What do you see?" Gandalf asked Frodo. For a while, nothing happened.

"Nothing…" Frodo shook his head. "I see nothing…" Gandalf put a hand on his ancient brow and sighed with relief. "…wait," Frodo squinted, not believing his own eyes. Slowly, as if they were hiding, fiery words began to form in an eternal circle around the golden Ring. "There are words…" Frodo almost dropped the Ring.

"I was afraid of this," Gandalf looked older than Frodo had ever seen him in that moment. "Frodo, have you ever heard tales of the Rings of Power?" the wizard began pacing. Gandalf began reciting a poem Frodo had never heard to the rhythm of his pacing footsteps.

"Three Rings for the Elvin Kings underneath the sky,

Seven for the Dwarf Lords in their halls of stone,

Nine Rings for the Mortal Men, doomed to die,

One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne.

In the land of Mordor, where the shadows lie,

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them,

In the land of Mordor where the shadows lie…"

The Wizard's pacing slowed. "I was warned of a storm that was upon me…I never would have dreamed it would be this."

Frodo was completely terrified now. He understood all too clearly the meaning behind the riddle of the poem. This Ring, the one his cousin had loved so dearly, perhaps even the reason behind Bilbo's prolonged youth…this Ring, _this _Ring, was _the_ Ring of Power. This Ring was the one in all the legends of the Dark Lord, the key to his very existence…and it was now here, in Frodo's shaking hand.

"Gandalf, what do we do?" Frodo could only stare at the golden circle as the letters faded back into non-existence.

"Not we, Frodo," the Wizard's voice was tired, sorrowful. "I'm afraid I won't be able to help you in the quest." Frodo nodded, taking this in.

"I don't understand, Gandalf. Why does there have to be a quest at all?" Frodo shook his head. "This thing has hidden here for this long. Why can't we just leave it hidden?"

"It isn't that simple anymore I'm afraid…" Gandalf looked into the fire. He was no longer in the room at Bag-End. He was somewhere far away, many years ago. "You see, Bilbo found the Ring on the first journey he went on with me…what I didn't know then was that he had won both the Ring and his life from a treacherous creature named Gollum. Gollum has spent the last sixty years trying to hunt down Bilbo to get back the Ring. His travels took him much too close to the Black Gate of Mordor. The miserable creature was captured and tortured…"

Frodo hung on Gandalf's every word. "But, what has that got to do with us?" he asked.

"Oh, it has everything to do with you." the Wizard now addressed Frodo directly. "Sauron was able to squeeze only two words from Gollum: Shire…and Baggins." Frodo's breath caught in the back of his throat.

"Are they…" he started.

"Sauron has sent the Nine." Gandalf shook his head. "I have no way of knowing how close they are, or when they will be on your doorstep. For all I know they may already be in the Shire." Gandalf paused here. "You must get out, Frodo. You must leave. It is your only chance of survival. You must take the Ring to Rivendell. The Elves will know what to do with it from there."

From outside the window, there was a choking noise. Gandalf leapt to the window, thrust his arm down and brought it back up holding the squirming form of Samwise Gamgee.

"Sam! What's the meaning of this?" Gandalf yelled angrily.

"I-I'm sorry, sir!" Sam stammered. "I was just trimmin' the bushes under th' window there an' I couldn' help but hear all that stuff about Rings and evil and such…then I heard you sayin' Mr. Frodo was gonna hafta leave, Sir!" Sam turned to Frodo to plead for help. "Mr. Frodo, I didn' mean to listen! Please, Mr. Frodo, don' let 'im turn me inta anything….unnatural…" Frodo fought the urge to laugh.

A sly smile crept across Gandalf's face that made Sam uncomfortable. "Oh, no, Samwise Gamgee…I have a much worse fate in store for you…" Sam squirmed on the table. "You are now doomed to follow your Mister Frodo all the way to Rivendell…"

Sam was thrilled. "Thank you, thank you, Gandalf! You won' regret this!" Gandalf nodded, smiling grimly.

There was suddenly a dull knock on the large round door. Frodo looked to Gandalf. The terrified look in the Hobbit's eyes told him Frodo wasn't expecting company at this hour. Gandalf, staff in hand, went cautiously to the door. Sam and Frodo stood some distance back. Gandalf flung the door back, ready for an attack. What he found instead caught him considerably off guard. A folded piece of parchment lay desolate on the rug. Looking around warily, Gandalf grabbed the paper and slammed the door back shut, locking the bolt. In the same flowing handwriting from that day on the front porch, there was written,

_Gandalf the Grey,_

_You have not been looking for me, but you have found me none the less. Things in this battle have grown considerably more "complicated". …Get Him Out. The Nine have arrived. You need not look for me anymore. I will be watching from the Shadows…._

Gandalf's breath caught. He turned to look at Frodo, clutching the paper just like the first day.

"Get your things…you must leave now."


	4. Chapter 3: From the Shadows

_**I DO NOT OWN LOTR OR STARWARS**_

Ch. 3: From the Shadows

Frodo woke the next morning in a very different setting than the one where he had awoken the previous morning. He lay, not in the plush down of his mattress, but on the hard ground of the forest with only his pack as a pillow. Sam laid next to him in much the same fashion…only Sam seemed much more content about it.

Frodo searched the trees around him as he packed up the few things he had brought. He and Sam had only been traveling for one day, but already they could see the challenge they were facing. Gandalf had instructed the Hobbits to stay away from the main road.

"I know Sauron has sent his Nine after you, but I don't know what other threats he may be sending your way. This stranger is still foreign to me. I haven't been able to map out his intentions. If you should run across him, be wary." the Wizard had stopped here, helping Frodo put on his pack. "I will go to Saruman. He is the head of our Order. If anyone knows what to do in this crisis, it will be him…"

Frodo shook Sam gently. The Hobbit smiled in a pleasant dream.

"Come on, Sam! We have to go!" Frodo laughed. Sam got up with minor complaints. Hurriedly, the two cooked a small breakfast before packing in their camp and making their way through the trees once again.

The path they took ran parallel to the Road, but not so close that they could easily be seen by anything walking along it. That probably aided in their being able to glimpse the sight of a lifetime.

As they drew close to a large grouping of trees, Frodo held up a hand in a motion of silence to the other hobbit.

"Do you hear that?" Frodo whispered.

"No," Sam frowned. What Sam didn't yet year was the sound of music. Beautiful, ethereal music. "I hear it now! What's it coming from?"

They didn't have to wonder long when around a bend in the road came the most breathtaking group of people either of them had ever seen. Frodo had met their kind before on occasion, but never had he seen them in their full royal garments. The music they made was mournful and haunting. They barely touched the ground as they walked, and the air around them glowed with an ethereal light. Elves, they were, making their final journey to the West and the Undying Lands.

"They're ELVES, Mister Frodo!" Sam exclaimed, jumping up. Frodo shushed him and dragged the hobbit back down beside him.

"Don't disturb them," Frodo's tone was somber. "They're leaving Middle Earth."

"Oh," Sam looked as though he would cry. "Do ya' think we'll get to meet some o'them before they all leave?"

"Of course, Sam," Frodo replied reassuringly, "We _are_ going to Rivendell after all."

Sam nodded, and they began their journey through the underbrush once again. After about an hour more of travelling, the hobbits encountered an unexpected difficulty. The trail they had been using ended, and the only manageable path through the forest led directly down to the Road.

"Bullocks," Frodo muttered, "It looks as though something's _trying_ to get us to the Road."

Reluctantly, the two of them stumbled down on to the dirt surface and began warily moving forward. They marched several miles with little event, though every sound possible caused them to jump with nervousness. Just then, though, Frodo's keen ears picked up a new sound entirely.

"Get off the road," Frodo whispered.

"What?" came Sam's reply through the mouthful of bread he'd just taken.

"Get off the road!" Frodo grabbed his friend, tossing him haphazardly into the bushes and under a slight overhanging of the rocks. Sam looked at him confusedly, but quickly understood his master's panic when he, too, heard the footfalls of a horse making its way toward them on the Road.

They listened as it came, praying it was only a merchant coming to sell his goods in the Shire, but to their horror, the horse drew up to their hiding place before stopping. The rider dismounted. Over the sounds of his frantic heartbeat, Frodo made out the sounds of…sniffing. It was as though the rider was trying to _smell_ them out.

Suddenly, a strange urge overcame Frodo. The hobbit fought with his own body as his hand slid into his pocket and gripped the Ring. Knowing this was a trick of the Enemy, Frodo fought it with all his might.

Just then though, the urge left, and the rider straightened up, rushing back to its hors and darting off. The hobbits looked to each other, confused, but then they heard what had caused its flight.

In the steadily falling night, loud voices cut through the chilling air. They sang happily despite the horror that had been just in front of them on the road. Frodo inched his way to the Road where he could see the ones responsible for the joyous noise.

Without warning, to Sam's horror, Frodo rushed into the road, waving his arms and shouting in a strange language. Sam followed him immediately, standing behind him, and remaining quiet.

"Hail, Elf-friend!" one of the men in the group spoke in delighted surprise. Indeed these men were Elves. They were dressed in simple, yet elegant, travelling clothes, but the light in their eyes and the look of the moonlight on top of their fair heads was enough to give them away. "What is Master Frodo doing abroad so late?"

"How do you know my name?" Frodo asked in wonder. These were high Elves. They had spoken the name of Elbereth in their song.

"We know many things," the one who had addressed him answered. "And we have seen you many times walking with Master Bilbo."

"And what is your name, Lord?" Frodo bowed deeply.

"Always a polite tongue," the leader laughed, "I am Gildor Inglorion of the House of Finrod. Some of our people still dwell in Rivendell. Come, now, Frodo. Tell us what you are doing. There is a shadow of fear upon you."

"What can you tell us of the Black Riders?" Frodo asked after thinking for a moment.

"Why do you ask of black Riders?" a shadow crossed Gildor's fair face at this thought.

"We were just overtaken by one before your voices scared him away," Frodo motioned to the spot where they had been hiding.

"This explains much," Gildor mumbled before leaning in to consort with the other Elves. "It is against our custom, but we feel it would be best if you would come with us now. You will lodge with us this night."

"I thank you indeed," Frodo bowed again, the feeling of relief that rushed over him almost taking his breath. "This is beyond my hopes of fortune."

_**~#*ITS*#~**_

The journey to their lodgings was long indeed. When they arrived, Frodo and Sam settled down for the night, and were quickly asleep. They didn't sleep long, however, before the elves' clear voices brought them back to startled wakefulness.

As the elves sang joyously, lights came from everywhere brightening the circle in which was now a table filled with a feast the likes of which the hobbits had never seen. More elves were here now than when they had fallen asleep, some were serving food, some lounging in the grass, but all were singing.

As they ate, Frodo noticed, at the other end of the table, being served as one of them, was a man in black. His face was hidden by his black hood and a strange black mist.

"Gildor?" he asked with fear shaking his voice.

"He is not a rider," Gildor laughed, seeing the reason for the hobbit's distress.

"Who is he?" Frodo frowned, relaxing only slightly, "He's been showing up for months now, and even Gandalf doesn't know what he's doing."

"You needn't fear Shadow," Gildor reclined on a the stump of a tree, "Even we know little about him, and no one has seen his true face, but I assure you he is no threat."

Frodo frowned deeper, "If you don't know much about him, how can you say he's not a threat?"

"Because, Master Frodo," Gildor's tone was dark and reverant, "He has fought alongside us many times. He has…power…incredible power, the likes of which no one in Middle Earth has seen before. He has been watching over you for this beginning of your journey as well, though I'm sure you have not been aware of his presence."

"It didn't seem like he was there when the Black Rider was coming after us," Frodo grumbled.

"Who do you think told us to sing?" Gildor raised an eyebrow. "As you saw, we usually travel in silence, but just before we found you, he appeared, breathless and looking as though he'd been in battle. He urged us to sing one of our high songs as loud as we could. He then disappeared as quickly as he'd come, and we found you a short while later."

After hearing this news, Frodo was all the more confused about this mysterious person. He sat comfortably at the end of the table, surrounded by laughing elves, but he looked as though this place was the furthest from where he should have been.

After they had eaten and the night had drawn on, Sam curled himself at Frodo's feet and went off to sleep. Frodo, however, talked with Gildor for long hours under the starlit sky. They discussed the Black Riders, Bilbo, and the journey ahead. Then Frodo himself nodded off to sleep, and this time, he was comfortable in his place on the plush grass, but his mind was filled with images of the man in black and what his intentions could possibly be…

_**~#*ITS*#~**_

**A/N: I know it's been a while on this one, but writer's block hit, and I was more focused on my other Fanfiction, **_**Divine Symphony**_** anyways, so I let it fall behind. So sorry! I think I've got my plan pretty well worked out now, though, so *Hopefully* this one won't get neglected again. **

**For some of you, there hasn't been enough StarWars in this fanfic, but I've been hinting as to what parts of it are related…one part in particular. If you haven't figured it out yet, I might need to put it up on a neon sign for you, but keep reading. It's only the beginning, and you don't need to know all my plans right now. That might sound snobby, but it's true. I'm the author, trust me, or move on to another fanfiction. It is entirely up to you.**

**For the rest of you, I hope you continue to enjoy this fanfic and keep commenting. I love to hear your feedback! =)**


	5. Chapter 4: Journey to the Ferry

**A/N: Posting this chapter in quick succession after the last as a sort of apology for being so long in updating. I want to thank everyone for the lovely reviews and continued support. This tale was my first fanfiction that I started when I was about 12 years old, so you can very well guess that it's very special to me.**

**Many of you are trying to guess the identity of "Shadow", and I'll go ahead and put you to rest on this one. He's an OC. He's an OC with a very interesting past which you will capture bits and pieces of as we go along. You've already been given the information that he is welcomed and even respected among high elves, so that should tell you something. I hope you're not too disappointed with that revelation, and I hope you grow to love him as much as your favorite *already established* Jedi. ;) He's been relatively hands-off as of yet, but he will become more involved and even tightly bound with our favorite Fellowship. =)**

**Mister CHRIS, you haven't made an account yet, so I am forced to answer you publicly instead of via PM, but in your last review, you informed me that "Bilbo is Frodo's uncle, although as they say in Hobbiton 'Baggins is his name, but he is more than half a Brandybuck.'" My answer to you, sir, can be found on page one of chapter one of the Fellowship of the Ring. "But he had no close friends, until some of his younger cousins began to grow up…The eldest of these, and Bilbo's favourite, was young Frodo Baggins." An explanation continues on page three where we learn that Frodo's mother, Miss Primula Brandybuck was Bilbo's first maternal cousin while Drogo Baggins was his second cousin. "So Mister Frodo is his first **_**and**_** second COUSIN, once removed either way, as the saying is, if you follow me." Frodo sometimes refers to Bilbo as his uncle due to the difference in age…mostly in the movies.**

**Anyways, on to the story!**

_**~#*ITS*#~**_

When Frodo woke the next morning, he found that he was lying in a most comfortable bed made from the natural curvature of the tree roots and a mattress of fern branches. He stretched, reluctant to leave this spot, before moving to where Sam was sitting in the grass.

"The elves left us breakfast!" the hobbit spoke excitedly through a mouthful of bread. Outside of the food they'd left, there was no sign of the elves that had been celebrating here the night before…and there was no sign of Shadow. Frodo wondered if the mysterious man was watching them now. He wasn't sure if the idea that Shadow might be watching comforted him or made him more uneasy.

After a few moments of contented silence, Sam spoke again.

"Which way do you plan to go from here?"

"The road is a ways out of the way from here, and it goes even further out of the way as you go along," Frodo returned after a few seconds of thought filled silence. "We can cut out a quarter of the distance by cutting through the woods there." He pointed down the ridge in front of them.

Sam nodded.

"Well then," he stood, gathering the food in his pack, "shall we go?"

_**~#*ITS*#~**_

They had walked several miles through the underbrush, the thick branches cutting faces and hands as they went. The duo was considering turning back and making a trek to the road when suddenly there was a noise behind them. It started as a low wail, making the hobbits freeze in their tracks, but soon built into a blood curdling shriek. The sound of it drew all happiness and light from the world, leaving the hobbits quaking and wishing for a way to disappear.

Sam looked up behind them to the ridge, and to his horror, he saw a black horse standing where they'd eaten their breakfast, and a tiny spot of a rider crawling around the ground. All thoughts of going back were silenced as the hobbits pressed on quicker than ever before, their only comfort in that a horse would not be able to use the same route they were taking.

Hours passed, and the sun rose high into the sky without further incidence. The forest ended, and the two hobbits found themselves in the rolling hills of the farmland a little too south of the direction they'd planned to take.

"This is farmer Maggot's land," Frodo's tone was far from excited. "He used to frighten me as a child, but perhaps he can offer us some shelter for now. At least a place to hide until nightfall when it will be easier to move about unseen."

"Maybe he can give us a ride to Buckleberry Ferry," Sam piped up, not too happy to be meeting someone who'd frightened his master, but still recognizing their need of assistance, "Pippin and Merry will be waiting for us there tonight."

Frodo gave him a horrified look, but Sam raised his hands in a defensive manner.

"What?" he stammered, "We had to have a cover story for you. As far as anyone knows, you're moving to Buckland now that Bilbo's gone."

Frodo sighed heavily. He had a feeling this was not what Gandalf had meant when he said to go secretly, but the plan did make sense. It would answer curious people while still keeping them enough in the dark to limit the danger they would face.

"Alright then," Frodo motioned ahead of them, "let's go find Farmer Maggot."

_**~#*ITS*#~**_

Later that evening, Frodo and Sam found themselves sitting at the large table in Farmer Maggot's house. His wife was busily preparing a dinner of Frodo's favorite…mushrooms. The trespassing of his youth had been forgotten, and Frodo was now a welcome guest in the Maggot home.

"Mister Maggot, I do have one last favor to ask of you," Frodo announced hesitantly after their immaculate dinner.

"Anything, Sir," Maggot leaned back in his chair with the reply.

"My friend and I need a ride to Buckleberry Ferry tonight…after the sun sets," Frodo looked down at his feet.

"Frodo, ye've been nervous and secretive the whole time ye've been here," Maggot now leaned forward with a deep frown adorning his face. "What's going on?"

"Mister Maggot, have you seen any Black Riders in the area?" Frodo bit his lip.

"Well, yes, there was a queer sort of fellow in black wanting to know about Baggins' just a few days back now. He made the dogs nervous, and he sent a right shiver up my spine as well, so I sent him on his way with no information…Are ye in some sort of trouble?"

"The less you know the better," Frodo fought with the urge to shiver at Maggot's words. They'd been in the Shire for days now… "But they're after us, and we need to get to Buckleberry Ferry tonight."

"Alright, lad, we'll leave when the sun goes down," Maggot eyed him suspiciously, but didn't press the matter further. "I won't be able to take ye all the way, but I'll take ye as far as I can."

At nightfall, they began the journey to the Ferry. Maggot packed the hobbits and their things under some blankets in the back of his rickety little cart and headed out.

Frodo and Sam watched in quiet nervousness as the lights of Maggot's farm dimmed and disappeared into the distance. The ride to the Ferry was several miles away from the farm, and every step they took made the silent group all the more nervous.

A thick fog had fallen over the road, telling them they were getting close to the Brandywine River. Maggot's little lantern creaked as it swayed on the hook he'd fashioned for it. No help did it offer in this unnatural fog, though.

"Alright," Maggot hissed, "This is as far as I can go, lads. The Missus will be gettn' worried."

"Thank you," Frodo whispered back as he climbed out of the wagon, "This was further than we were hoping to have you take us."

"Take care of yerselves," Maggot tipped his hat as he turned the cart around to head home, "and know that they'll get no information outa this old hobbit!"

Frodo and Sam watched him leave. The air around them was damp with the fog, but it was the silence of the night that made them uneasy. No birds sang in the trees, no crickets or frogs made noise down by the water. There wasn't even the sound of wind whispering in the trees as they walked. Just the overwhelming silence. It was as though the night was waiting for something.

Just then, the two hobbits saw a light up ahead of them on the road. It was coming closer. Frodo and Sam leaped into the bushes to wait for what was about to come upon them.

"Do you really think they're going to make it tonight?" a shaky voice said.

"Sam said they should be able to be here by now," came the nervous reply.

Sam jumped out of his place in the bushes with Frodo right behind him.

"Pippin! Merry! Am I glad to see you two!" Sam ran to them excitedly.

"Oi! Where ya been?" Pippin called back.

"Been waitin' for you all night!" Merry's tone was frustrated. "And in this eerie fog, no less!"

"Sorry," Frodo clapped them on the back, "We've been pursued, so we thought it better to wait until nightfall to leave Farmer Maggot's land."

Their happy conversation was soon cut off, however. The same terrifying shriek they'd heard earlier assailed them where they stood, only this time, it was so loud it shook them all to the bones.

"FLY!" Frodo screamed, "They're upon us! FLY!"

With that, there was chaos. Pippin and Merry took off in the direction of the ferry. Sam and Frodo followed behind them. The sound of horses was everywhere around them mixed with echoes of the horrible shrieking. Off to the left, a blinding green light flashed, illuminating one of the horses. Frodo could have sworn he saw the horse fall, its legs taken from under it by the light.

The ferry was in sight. They didn't have much further to go, but they horsemen were all around them. Pippin and Merry were the first to reach the launching ramp of the ferry. They began feverishly untying the ropes holding it to the shore. Sam reached them next. When he looked back though, Frodo had fallen to an alarming distance behind them.

Suddenly, around the bend came three riders. They were upon Frodo before he'd had time to react. Though he was running with all his might, the hobbit's tiny legs were no match for the riders on horses. From out of the trees on the left, another one of the riders came. This one was on foot, however, but he was no less menacing. In his terror, Frodo tripped, and fell flat on the ground. He covered his head, waiting for the Black Riders to come down upon him.

"Mister Frodo!" Sam screamed from the ferry. Pippin and Merry held him back as they pushed off from the bank.

"There's nothing we can do, Sam!" Merry yelled. "We'll be killed as well!"

They watched helplessly as the riders moved in on their friend, but suddenly, the green light was back, and with it, a fifth man in black. This one was also on foot, and when he brandished the light, the other riders stopped where they stood. Some even backed away. The man ran at Frodo, scooping him up in one fluid motion and continuing to run for the ferry.

The shrieks of the riders redoubled as they darted after the figure carrying Frodo. The man ran to the dock and took a flying leap at the ferry which was already ten feet into the river. Cradling Frodo against his front, the man turned to where his back crashed into the wooden ferry first, lessening the blow to the frightened hobbit.

Without hesitation or explanation, the man sat Frodo aside and stood. He held a gloved hand out to the ferry dock which the riders were fast approaching with the intention of leaping as the man had. He took a deep breath before clenching his hand into a fist. As he did this, the dock shattered, sending splinters of wood in all directions.

Foiled, the riders stood on the bank shrieking in anger before darting off to the North. It would be twenty miles until they reached the Brandywine Bridge, the nearest crossing.

Horrified, the hobbits watched the man in black as he still stood with his hand outstretched, his breathing labored and ragged. Frodo stood warily and touched the man's side.

"M—Mister Shadow?" the hobbit's voice trembled as he spoke, adrenaline still rushing through his veins. The man in black looked down at him, studying him for a moment. Then, the black hood moved up and down in a nod before looking back to the western bank of the river. The riders were nowhere to be seen, and the man in black took a deep breath, releasing it in a sigh.

He stood there unmoving for a moment before swaying and falling with a thud to the wooden floor of the ferry boat.

"What in the Shire is going on here?" Merry demanded, staring at the man, now lying motionless on the floor.

"We shouldn't speak of it here." Frodo replied, feeling the man's neck for a pulse, "but when we get inside, I'll tell you everything I know."

_**~#*ITS*#~**_

**I hope you're enjoying it! I know that might have seemed rushed through a bit, but we have a LOT of book/movie to cover and more important places to go! Hang on, because things are about to get interesting!**


	6. Chapter 5: Of Willows and Tom Bombadil

Frodo stared at the roaring fire in the house that had been prepared as an excuse to get him out of Hobbiton. It had been hours since the incident at the Ferry, but Frodo's heart was still full of fear. His friends stood at random around the room, having just decided that they would all be leaving for Rivendell.

The mysterious man who'd saved Frodo's life paced the floor with long, steady strides. Shadow had been this way since he'd awoken on the ferry boat a few moments after he'd passed out: alert and on edge, but never speaking. He only answered yes or no questions, and then only with a nod or shake of his hooded head. He had tried to get them to leave as soon as they'd filled up their packs with provisions by pointing toward the door, and even gently pushing Merry toward it at one point. When that hadn't worked, though, he'd begun the nervous pacing and hadn't stopped since. That had been hours ago.

Shadow's very presence unnerved the hobbits, who were still uncertain of the man's intentions. The figure in black had done nothing but help them up to now, and the elves trusted him enough to allow a place for him at their table. Still, though, Frodo was unsure. Who was this man? Where had he come from? Why did he hide his face? What was he gaining from assisting them? And why now was he seemingly refusing to speak?

Frodo was shaken from his thoughts when Shadow's pacing suddenly halted. He stood perfectly still, staring at a blank wall as though looking through a window. All at once he sprang into action. Silently, Shadow scooped up several of their bags which had been piled next to the door, and moved toward Frodo. With cries of protest from the frightened hobbits, he grabbed Frodo's arm and half tossed him toward the back door of the house, motioning for the rest of them to follow. This time, it seemed he wouldn't take no for an answer.

They were coming.

Once outside, the hobbits could clearly hear the distant screams of the Black Riders as Shadow continued to urge them toward the secret entrance to the Old Forrest. This was not a road they wished to take, but given the circumstances, the hobbits had no choice. The East Road would be watched, and this way would not be expected.

Just as they reached the entrance, Shadow stopped and turned. He held his hands out before him and took a deep breath before moving his hands out and to the sides. A strange, sharp wind rushed over the field between them and the house they had just exited, stirring the grass violently and then leaving it as though it had not been touched by their escape.

"That's a handy trick!" Pippin exclaimed, but he was silenced as Shadow scooped him up and ducked through the small opening to the tunnel leading into the Old Forest.

Inside the dense, foggy wood, Shadow knelt to feel the ground. The hobbits could hear a raspy sound halfway between a breath and a whisper coming from the man, but no one could understand what he said. The man in black stood and warily paced forward, motioning for the hobbits to follow.

Sam stuck close to Frodo. He could almost feel his heart beating up in his throat. He couldn't remember ever being as frightened as he had been for the last couple of days. Twice, he'd seen his master almost fall into the hands of those that pursued them. The last time, he'd been saved by a being only slightly less frightening than those who chased after them. Following his quiet life as a gardener back in Hobbiton, this was a lot to take in.

_**~#*ITS*#~**_

Hours had passed in the Old Forrest, and it seemed that the group was no closer to finding their way out than they had been when they first entered. It's a well, known fact that the trees in the forest would uproot themselves and move around, so finding any trail was impossible. Shadow seemed to know the direction in which he wanted to go despite how turned around the hobbits felt, but the trees wouldn't allow it. Every so often, the hobbits would hear a hiss that they could only interpret to be a curse from the man in black.

As the sun began to descend down below the canopy of trees above them, Shadow and the hobbits found themselves in a beautiful meadow with a pond and a large willow tree. Now, Shadow seemed more edgy than he had been through the entire wood.

Frodo and the others, happy to find a place to rest had begun to put down their packs. However, when Frodo moved toward the large willow tree in the middle of the meadow, Shadow placed a firm hand on his shoulder. The hobbit looked up at the dark man who shook his hooded head, still staring at the tree.

"Shadow," Frodo frowned, "What's wrong?" Shadow only shook his head, pointing to the ground next to him. "Alright, I'll stay here."

Shadow repeated this process with each of the hobbits that tried to move toward the tree. It seemed to their ears that a sweet music was emanating from that spot in the meadow, and they longed to get closer. Soon enough, though, the music grew louder, and one by one, the hobbits nodded off to sleep despite Shadow's silent urgings that they remain awake.

Suddenly, though, off to the left, Frodo began crying out. Instantly Sam was awake, and Shadow sprang into action. A tree root had come up out of the ground and was quickly dragging Frodo toward the pond. Shadow grabbed a metal cylinder from his belt and leaped into a summersault. When he came down, a green light was emanating from the metal in the form of a blade which he brought down on the tree root, slicing it cleanly from Frodo's leg. Sam clutched his master's wrists and pulled him back to where the other two hobbits remained sleeping.

The willow tree began to shiver and shake with pain and rage as its root was severed, and the hobbits were soon surrounded by the roots. Sam took out his frying pan and began beating back the pointed assailants as Shadow ran back to join them. At some on the right, the man waved his hand, bending and breaking the roots. The ones on the left were destroyed by the humming green light.

Suddenly, though, a massive root burst out of the ground behind Sam who continued to battle the smaller pests. Shadow was faster than the root, however, and leaped, pushing Sam toward Frodo and the others. The root then grabbed the cloaked man and wrapped him tightly, pinning down his arms and lifting him off the ground.

"Shadow!" Sam cried, rushing forward and beating the giant root with his frying pan. The hobbit felt his stomach turn when he heard the sickening crack of Shadow's ribs as the root tried to squeeze the life out of him. Shadow went limp, and Sam began beating ever harder trying to free their mysterious protector.

"What's all this now?" a new voice rang out behind the hobbit, and Sam turned, finding himself face to face with a strange little man. "Is Old Willow Man causing trouble for you fine lot?" The small man, only slightly bigger than the hobbits and wearing a bright blue outfit with yellow hat and boots, skipped forward singing a strange song. He went to the base of the massive tree and began singing into its trunk. The entire thing stopped moving, and drooped as though it had fallen asleep.

The large root released Shadow, who crashed to the ground and lay motionless.

"Mister Shadow?" Sam touched the man in black's shoulder apprehensively. He knew that Shadow had saved his life. Given what the tree had done to one as strong as Shadow, it would have ended Sam with little effort had the man not sacrificed himself for the hobbit. "M—Mister Shadow, please wake up!"

To Sam's delight, Shadow groaned and sat up, clutching his sides to support the broken ribs. He ruffled Sam's hair with a gloved hand in an endearing 'thank you'. The hooded man then stood shakily and moved toward the other three hobbits, which were now waking from Willow Man's spell. Shadow shook Frodo, and released a sigh of relief when the hobbit stirred and opened his eyes.

"Come, now, merry Doll!" The strange little man who had come to their rescue sang as he rejoined them happily. "Apologies for your trouble, Master Shadow! You know how Old Man Willow can get." Shadow nodded his hooded head, obviously knowing the odd little man. "Name's Tom Bombadil!" The man reached out his hand to Sam who shook it eagerly.

"Thank you for your help," Sam managed to say with a bow.

"Twas nothing, Lad," Bombadil sang, bouncing to where he could retrieve the water lilies he'd left sitting by the bank of the pond. "Now, though, we must be off! Goldberry is waiting!"

Shadow helped the sleepy hobbits gather their things quickly before shoving them gently to follow Tom Bombadil. The sun was setting, and they needed to get to shelter before night fell on this dangerous place.

Another hour passed from the time they'd set out again until the hobbits found themselves being led up a steep hill to a beautiful house. Golden light from inside poured out to the weary travelers as they stumbled up the hill.

Inside, the house was warm and bright. The hobbits were stunned to find the fairest woman any of them had laid eyes on. She sat in a chair by the fire with the water lilies circling her in small bowls of water on the floor. When they entered, she jumped up and ran to them, her golden hair flowing behind her as she did so. She shut the wooden door and put her back to it, smiling brightly.

"There now, let's shut out the night and the fears that it holds," She went to Shadow, "It's been a long time since you visited our home, dear friend! Come. Sit down and make yourselves comfortable."

"It would seem," Tom Bombadil bounced in from the other room carrying a mug of ale for each of the guests, "that our dear friend has lost his voice!"

Goldberry looked to Shadow in astonishment. The black hood bobbed up and down slowly in answer.

_So that's why he wouldn't speak,_ Frodo thought, observing the exchange, _Not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't._

Goldberry skipped up to Shadow once more and placed a slender hand deep into the abyss of black mist that covered his face to where his throat would have been. A bright light flashed, and Shadow doubled over, coughing and holding his neck.

"Mister Shadow!" Sam jumped up and ran to him, to the surprise of his companions who'd been asleep during the battle against the roots.

"I'm alright, Sam," Shadow placed a hand on the hobbit's shoulder from where he sat on his knees now. His voice was different than the hobbits had imagined. It was soft and gentle, unlike the rough, commanding voice they'd all been expecting.

"You're far from alright, I'm afraid, my dear Shadow," Tom's tone was darker than they'd heard all night as he now sat in his chair beside the fire across from Goldberry. Shadow's hooded head turned to look at the strange little man.

"It's been a hard road," Shadow replied simply.

"Why don't you tell me about it?" Bombadil watched him with clear, knowing, blue eyes. "And your friends…as it appears they know not of your troubles."

Shadow looked, and sure enough, the hobbits were staring at him expectantly. He sighed heavily, still cradling his aching ribs and fighting to remain conscious.

"The Nazgul have been sent after the Ring," he said to Tom, who nodded with a deep frown. The hobbits looked at one another with confused expressions. Why was Shadow just giving this information freely to the odd little man? He spoke to Tom as though he was speaking to an old friend. "They have manifested themselves as riders in black, and they've been pursuing Frodo all the way from Hobbiton. I went with the hobbits on their journey, though they knew not of my presence. Along the East Road, Frodo and Sam were found out. I drew the riders away with a false sense of the Ring, however, and did battle with them. When I'd delayed them long enough, I sensed that one had doubled back to where Frodo Sam were hiding. I found Gildor Inglorion and told him to sing, because the battle with the Riders had taken too much out of me to allow me to make another stand against them."

Frodo and Sam looked to one another before turning back to the man in black in amazement.

"I fought them all along the way, and sustained various small injuries for my trouble, but the real danger came as Frodo and Sam drew near the Buckleberry Ferry. Five of the riders attacked at once, and they somehow knew Frodo had the Ring so there was no way for me to draw them off. I took the mount from under one of them, so his journeying will be all the more difficult, at least, but the battle was fierce."

Frodo's mind went back to the night of the attack. He remembered seeing the green light off in the trees and watching it as it took the legs off one of the horses. He shuddered.

"A blow to the throat with the hilt of one of their swords took my voice, so that made it impossible for me to prove to you my loyalties with speech. I am glad you at least trusted me enough to allow me to help as much as I could." He looked at Frodo with this statement. "My body is bruised and broken, but we have come this far with little incident given the circumstances. I thank you for your hospitality, Master Bombadil."

"There is always a place for you here, Friend, Shadow," he stood, looking over each of the hobbits with a bright smile, "Now. I believe the time has come to fill our bellies with wine and food and forget the worries of the outside." With that, he and Goldberry flitted off to the kitchen, leaving the hobbits alone with their protector once more.

Frodo looked to the man in black with a frown. His pain was obvious in the way he sat huddled over, trembling with the effort. His breath was shallow and ragged. There was so much the small hobbit wanted to ask him, but before he could, Goldberry returned, and motioned for Shadow to follow her upstairs.

"You have wounds that need tending," she said softly, helping him to his feet. He leaned on her slender form as the two of them made their way slowly up the stairs. It was about that time when Tom reappeared and brought the hobbits to a table laid with a feast very nearly as grand as what they'd had with the elves.

The hobbits filled their bellies, and then ate some more before joining Tom by the fire again. For long hours into the night, he told them stories of the world as it had been for centuries forgotten. One by one, they dropped off to sleep until only Frodo was left, listening to the stories and rolling over questions of their journey in his mind.

_I wonder if Shadow will be alright._

**A/N:**

**I know that was a long one, but I hope you enjoyed it! I was angry when I saw that the movie cut out the 100 some-odd pages concerning Tom Bombadil, so here he is! He's not an integral part of the story I want to convey to you, however, so I won't be doing him justice by spending a lot of time here. For that, I'm sorry. We're moving into a very exciting part of the story though, and I hope you're loving the ride as much as I am! Don't forget to review, and I'll see you all soon!**


	7. Chapter 6: Answers by Firelight

"How long do you really think you can keep this up?" Frodo listened silently from the top of the stairs. He and the other hobbits had been moved into a comfortable bedroom shortly after they'd fallen asleep talking to Tom Bombadil, but Frodo had awakened to the sound of voices. When he'd crept out of his room, he'd found Goldberry, seemingly finished patching up the majority of Shadow's wounds speaking with the mysterious man by the waning light of the fireplace.

The woman's voice was strained through its hush, her eyes red with tears as she stared at the hooded man before her.

"From what you have told me, this is the beginning of the beginning of your journey," she leaned in closer. "Look what it has done to you already!"

"These are but the first of many wounds," Shadow stared at the floor, "Many lives will be taken by this venture."

"And yours CANNOT be one of them," Goldberry shook her head with a fierceness that made Frodo frown. Who was this man? "You have come close to throwing it away already. It is doubtful the hobbits know how close you came to losing your life to ease their passage. Those wounds were more severe than you let on. Come on, Dai! Taking on the Nazgul? ALONE? What were you thinking?"

"I was THINKING that I have no other choice." Shadow suddenly looked up. Frodo could only imagine the expression in the eyes he had yet to see. "Why is my life more valuable than the men and dwarves and elves who have already given everything?"

"Because there is more riding on your survival than this world alone," Goldberry stood firm despite Shadow's dismissal. "You have told me of the other worlds to which you travel. And even if those were not counted, what of Starkaven? How would those beyond the Grey Havens survive without you?"

"They would survive just as they have in the thousands of years before my arrival." Here, Shadow hung his head, resting it on his arms between his knees. "Do you really think, Goldberry, that Starkaven would survive if Sauron wins with or without me? If he succeeds here, it will only be a matter of time until his evil has grown to where nothing will stop him."

Goldberry fell silent. She knew nothing would sway the thoughts of the dark man before her.

"All my hope," Shadow's voice was muffled as he spoke to the ground, "All the hope of the world lies with that one tiny hobbit. I will see him through his journey if it kills me."

"I pray that we may keep our hope," Goldberry stood once again with tears in her eyes, "and your life with it." With that, she was gone, and Shadow sat alone before the fireplace. Frodo watched him for a moment before turning to sneak back up the stairs.

"Come down, Frodo," the hobbit jumped at the mention of his name, but after a moment of hesitation, he did as he was told.

"I'm sorry," he said as he descended the stairs, "I didn't mean to be rude. Your voices woke me, and—"

"There is no need of apology," Shadow lifted his head and Frodo stared into the black abyss of his face.

"What was that she called you?" Frodo ventured to ask after taking a seat next to his dark protector. "Dai, I believe she said."

Shadow sighed, staring at the fire.

"You should know that one, Frodo," the hobbit could sense the smile in the man's voice before he responded thoughtfully, "It's the Elvish word for Shadow. Few now call me by that name…mostly the oldest of the old…and those who do not speak the common tongue."

"So then, Goldberry is old?" Frodo raised an eyebrow at him.

"Very old," Shadow's response was quiet, and Frodo said no more for a time.

"There is more you wish to ask me." Frodo thought for a moment. Shadow was right. A thousand questions now tumbled through his mind, but Frodo was at a loss to put them into coherent words.

"What…_Who_ are you?" Frodo felt the second question better suited the situation at hand. Shadow chuckled a bit.

"I am a Jedi Knight," Shadow's voice was far-off, lost in some distant memory, "we are protectors of the weak and keepers of the Force. In simple terms, it means that we are attuned to the life force of everything around us. It is how I can move objects with my mind. It is how I knew you were at the top of the stairs," here, he paused to look sideways at the red-faced hobbit.

"I am different in terms of the Jedi in that I can travel through time and space. Like this:" Shadow stood suddenly and vanished. Frodo almost fell backwards out of sheer shock when suddenly Shadow reappeared on the other side of the room. He walked back calmly and retook his seat next to Frodo before continuing. "I have left the galaxy of the Jedi in the middle of a war, Frodo. My reasoning being that there is something far more important than that war happening here and now, and it all centers on you, my little one."

Frodo stared at the man in amazement and sudden fear.

"How is the fate of Middle Earth greater than that of an entire galaxy?" the hobbit stammered.

"Because," Shadow sighed again, "as I was telling Goldberry, if this land should fall into darkness, it will have a ripple effect that will eventually throw all of time and space into darkness. I have tried to prevent this for many long years, but it would seem that the fates are against me. I have gone to the future and heard tales of the deeds done in this war and have come to offer aid."

Frodo's head was spinning from all he was hearing at this moment. "And Goldberry spoke of the Grey Havens, what of them?"

"Ah, Starkaven," Shadow nodded, unfastening the brooch from the cloak at his neck and offering it to the small hobbit. "Starkaven is an empire beyond the Grey Havens—one of many. It is home to many of the elves who travel into the west, and it is ruled by a just and fair queen by the name of Daiel."

"Shadow Star?" Frodo looked up from the brooch.

"Yes," Shadow chuckled again at Frodo's quickness. It was something that few of his kind possessed. "That would be her name in the common tongue. Anyways," he took the brooch back and refastened it around his neck, "I have spent much time there, and call it home when I am here on this world."

"Goldberry spoke as though you were one of high rank there," Frodo pressed.

"You could say that," Shadow turned back to the fire. "I brought new technologies and ideals with me when I came here. Daiel looks to me for council when she needs it. It is long since the lands of the far west have been at war…but it is not a foreign concept."

"Why do you hide your face?"

Here, Shadow laughed quietly.

"Because my appearance might frighten people." Though Frodo couldn't see it, deep in the black oblivion of Shadow's face, a bright eye winked at him.

Frodo yawned suddenly, and Shadow patted his back.

"You should get some sleep, little one. Tomorrow, our journey begins again."

_**~#*ITS*#~**_

The sun had yet to reach the tiny house in the forest when Shadow roused the hobbits to come to breakfast. He sat quietly in the corner watching as they ate, then ushered them to pack their things for the next leg of their journey.

"You seem to be in a hurry this morning, Master Shadow," Merry commented as he stuffed extra food in his pack.

"The road by which we will be travelling should not be taken," Shadow helped Pippin stuff his bag. "When necessity dictates it, however, it should be travelled by light of day. We need to leave as soon as possible in order to spend as little night as can be managed on the Barrow Downs."

"The Barrow Downs?" Merry stopped, dropping a few apples in his surprise. "I've heard rumors of that evil place."

"And they're all true," Shadow handed him the apples, "So we need to get moving."

_**~#*ITS*#~**_

The day passed with little incident on the foggy, dreary place known as the Barrow Downs. The group marched in silence with Shadow in the lead, ever watchful of the land around him even under the sun's warm rays. The mists around them were an unnatural green-grey, and the feeling of the air and land was one of poisoned death. Tom had left them at the edge of the Downs and had wished them well in their journeys. As the day wore on, however, it became clear that they would be spending at least one night in the cursed place.

As the sun began to set, Shadow found them a small place where the earth dipped and the rock jutted out to form a little bit of a shelter. The Jedi built a roaring fire in the back of it, and instructed the hobbits to lie with their backs to the flame when they wished to venture into sleep. In the earth outside the small camp, Shadow carved Elvish spells of protection with the green light he'd used as a sword when fighting.

"Inside this space, you're safe," Shadow had told the Hobbits. They had protested as he started to walk into the mists, but were answered with a soothing promise that he would be watching from atop the rock embankment. "I'll be able to see a threat long before they're upon us that way, and even if it's only a whisper, I'll be able to hear you should you need me."

Everything was perfect, and though every sound made them dart up in fear, eventually the tired hobbits nodded off to sleep with their backs to the fire as they'd been instructed. When they woke in the morning, Sam wondered who'd been keeping the fire all night, and he could have sworn he'd heard the sounds of fighting and Shadow's humming green light off and on, but the cloaked man pressed them on in the morning light as though he, too, had restfully slept the night away.

When night fell again, the group was long out of the Barrow Downs, and for the first time since Buckleberry Ferry, they were on the East Road again. The star-filled sky had grown overcast on their journey and a chilling rain began to pour when Shadow and the hobbits topped a hill and found themselves looking down on the bright lights of Bree.

"Time for some ale and a comfortable fire at the Pony, boys," Shadow's steps took on a lively bounce as he headed down the hill toward the large gate of the town. The hobbits followed, thinking that ale sounded like it was just what they needed.

_**~#*ITS*#~**_

**A/N: A distinct lack of action in this one, but it was chocked full of the information you've all been demanding. Haha! I hope it satisfied some of what you wanted to know while still leaving you hungry for more information on our mystery hero...****who probably left out a few important details when talking to our dear little Frodo. ;) **. Till next time!


	8. Chapter 7: Too Far

Through the rainy streets of Bree stole a silent shadow of a man. His passage went unnoticed by the multitudes of townspeople as they hurried to finish the business of the day so that they could return to their warm fire-lit houses. Shadow paid no heed to the men around him, but instead, he reached out with his mind to the Force for any sign of the Riders he knew would be upon them this night.

Upon arriving to Bree, Shadow had placed the hobbits comfortably in the tavern at the Prancing Pony knowing they would eventually have a meeting with the ranger Strider. He instructed Frodo to look for the man, giving him a description and a myriad of verbal identifiers by which he could confirm the ranger's identity.

After staying with the hobbits for the better part of an hour, Shadow excused himself to go scope out the village. When the Nazgul did arrive here, the Jedi wanted to be the first to know.

It didn't take long before Shadow sensed that for which he was searching. It was faint, but the Jedi could just make out the impression of the Nine on the Force. He'd just turned to go back to the inn when, travelling on the wind, came the sound of the Nazgul's scream. Though it was quiet, even the men in the village stopped in their tracks to listen in fear before scurrying quickly to their homes. It was then that Shadow quickened his pace.

The Jedi headed not for the side of the Pony that housed the hobbit sized rooms where the one "Mister Underhill" had paid for lay, but instead to the other wing where he knew Strider would be keeping the hobbits in order to throw off the Riders.

Upon arriving at the room, Shadow opened the door and entered without hesitation. Immediately as he did so, a blade was strategically placed at his throat. He paused only for a brief second to remove the cold metal with his thumb and forefinger.

"Greetings, Ranger," he said absently as he moved to the hobbits. In his surprise, Strider only stood dumbfounded while the hobbits circled around their dark friend nervously.

"Shadow! How did you know we were here? We were worried you wouldn't find us," Frodo commented with relief.

"Remember that I have been to the future," Shadow replied, his attention taken with looking around the room, "And that I am a Jedi Knight…I sensed your life force here."

They watched the cloaked man as he continued to circle the room, obviously looking for something.

"Excuse me, but who exactly are you?" Strider finally came out of his shock enough to put his guard back up. The hobbits were apparently very comfortable with this person, but Gandalf had mentioned nothing of a character cloaked in black when he'd instructed Strider to come to the Pony.

"Where is Sam?" Shadow demanded, ignoring Strider's question. There were more pressing matters at hand than his backstory. He respected Strider's distrust and knew it would be a necessity in days to come, but being that Shadow was no threat, the Ranger would have to wait until later for an explanation of the Jedi's intentions. "The Riders have arrived."

Frodo froze immediately, color draining from his face. Shadow turned to look at him squarely.

"Frodo," he knelt before the hobbit to look him in the eye, "where is Sam?"

"He—he went for a walk…that was over an hour ago," Frodo began breathing faster, fear overtaking him. "Shadow, he doesn't know we're staying up here!"

"Alright!" Shadow stood, wheeling on his heel to face the door, "It's alright. I'll find him."

"Wait a moment!" Strider placed himself in the Jedi's path.

"I'm afraid I don't have time for this at present." Shadow half growled. "All of your questions will be answered, but right now, there are more important things to see to. Please keep them safe until I return."

"You're not going anywhere until I have an explanation," Strider put a hand out in front of him as if to keep Shadow from moving forward. Shadow took a calming breath and raised his own hand. When he did so, to Strider's utter shock, the ranger found himself suspended in mid-air while Shadow walked beneath him. On his way out the door, Shadow turned and looked at Frodo.

"Please explain everything to him while I'm gone," the Jedi instructed before heading down the hallway muttering something about how "this shouldn't be happening".

Soon enough, Shadow found himself in the wet, rainy streets of Bree once again. This time though, the Jedi was running. He could sense the presence of the Nazgul all around, and their evil drowned every other life in the Force, making it impossible to pinpoint Sam's location. Sam didn't have the Ring, but the Riders knew he had been with Frodo. If Shadow didn't find the hobbit before they did, Sam's life was forfeit.

Suddenly, Shadow's run was halted so quickly, it was as though he'd run into a wall. The angry screams of the Nazgul echoed mercilessly throughout the desolate streets of the town, but it was not their shrieking that froze the Jedi's blood.

Shadow turned and began running as he'd never run before, his black cloak billowing out behind him in the chilling wind. With long, desperate strides, the Jedi made for the hobbit wing of the Prancing Pony…where Sam's horrified screams mingled with those of the Nazgul.

Given a direction, the Jedi was able to lock on to Sam's tiny aura. In his mind, the Jedi pictured the hobbit with all his might, and instantly found himself in the midst of five of the nine Ringwraiths.

Without hesitation, Shadow reached for his belt and activated the humming blade of his lightsaber. He tried to ignore the sight of the room around him for fear that its horror would overtake him. Shredded bits of the mattresses lay scattered around the floor, and blood soaked the overturned beds and walls.

"You should not interfere here, Dai," the raspy voice of the Nazgul king sent a chill up the Jedi's spine. "You have done enough already to merit a place of infinite torture when Sauron is Lord of all Middle Earth. You should not make things harder for yourself."

"I'm quite certain I can prevent that fate," Shadow stepped forward fearlessly, "by ending Sauron before he has a chance to get ahold of me."

The Nazgul hissed and shrieked, advancing on the lone Jedi. When the first one reached him, however, Shadow whipped his blade quickly through the black robes, causing them to fall to the ground, but at a cost. The Jedi stumbled, clutching his chest.

"You know fully that you cannot kill us," the Nazgul king spoke again.

"Yes," Shadow huffed, "but my light does hurt you…and can you really afford the delay I'll cause you here?" With a shout, the Jedi sprang at the next nearest Rider, causing it to stumble back. A flourish of the green lightsaber and the wraith was gone, leaving behind only a pile of empty robes. Shadow spun, slicing through the blade of a third wraith and reducing him to robes as well.

The price of laying a blade to a Ringwraith was starting to take its toll on the Jedi as he stumbled forward again. He covered his moment of weakness with a tucked roll and brought his saber up through the chest of a fourth Nazgul. Shadow rolled to the side, dodging the sword of the king as the dark figure made its way through the open window and down into the streets. The Jedi ran to the window and watched as the Wraith King made off into the night to regroup his fallen fellows.

Shadow leaned heavily on the window, coughing and gasping for air. His chest burned with the witch king's magic and the pain of the recently broken ribs. Reaching up a gloved hand, Shadow wiped away the blood that had begun to drip from the corner of his mouth, its irony taste covering his tongue and making him frown.

Three times already he'd attacked the Nazgul. Goldberry did have a point when she said Shadow wouldn't be able to do this much longer. If they didn't get to Rivendell as quickly as possible, the Jedi would fall to the Nazgul, unable to heal between encounters, and his help along the journey would come to an end.

Just then, Shadow was reminded of why he'd attacked in the first place. A soft moan came from the corner of the room beneath one of the heavy beds.

"Sam," Shadow breathed, stumbling to the corner where he knew the hobbit lay. With the Force, he moved the massive wooden furniture, and gasped as he looked upon his little friend. "Oh, Sam…"

The hobbit was covered in blood, and obviously losing more of it. A ghastly wound on his side was to blame for the hobbit's condition, inflicted when the wraiths first attacked.

"Sh…Shadow," the hobbit struggled to speak, "where's Mister Frodo?"

"Shh," Shadow hushed him, "Frodo and the others are safe. Everything's going to be fine."

That was a lie, and the Jedi knew it. Sam was ghostly white from blood loss and would certainly die soon if drastic measures were not taken. Shadow looked around the floor and found the blade that had been used to strike the hobbit. He prayed silent thanks to God that it had not been a Morgul blade that pierced his tiny friend as he rolled up his own sleeve, exposing flesh of alabaster white.

"Wh…what…are you doing…?" Sam looked at Shadow with fear in his brown eyes.

"Hush, now," Shadow placed a hand on Sam's forehead, stealing away the hobbit's consciousness before a fit of coughing took his breath. Again, he wiped the blood from his lips and stared into the hobbit's pain filled face. "I'm so sorry, Sam…This wasn't supposed to happen, but I'll make everything alright."

With a steadying breath, Shadow laid the blade deeply into his own flesh, wincing as his own blood poured onto the floor. Using the Force, Shadow carefully collected every drop that had fallen from his injured arm and forced it into Sam's wounds.

When he'd given enough blood that color returned to the hobbit's cheeks, Shadow focused his mind on knitting the flesh back together around the knife wound on Sam's side. He found it difficult to keep his eyes trained on his work due to his own lack of blood and the lingering effects of the Nazgul magic.

When he'd finished the careful procedure, Shadow was exhausted. With darkening eyes, he dragged himself to a sitting position and tightly bound his arm with a piece of a bed sheet lying next to him. With the last of his waning strength, Shadow pulled Sam into his lap and watched the hobbit's chest rise and fall in an uneasy sleep before the world around the Jedi fell into complete darkness and was utterly lost to him.

_**~#*ITS*#~**_

**A/N: OH MAN! Has Shadow gone too far? He's given much for the Middle Earth's cause…but has he given too much this time? You'll just have to wait and see! You know the drill. I wanna know what you think!**


	9. Chapter 8: Resilience

As the first light of morning peaked its sleepy arms up into the clouds over Bree, Strider and the three hobbits that had spent the night with him ventured out of the room in which they'd hidden from the Nazgul. The halls of the inn were eerily silent as those who stayed the night in those rooms had either checked out to flee the terrors that had accosted Bree that night, or they were fearful of what lay beyond the doors and chose instead to remain hidden in bed.

As they moved through the quiet hallways to the room which should have been theirs, the hobbits and the ranger grew more and more uneasy. If their hallway had been silent, this one was death. It seemed that even the floorboards on which they walked were afraid to make noise and evoke the wrath of some nameless fear.

It became clear to the small group just exactly what they'd escaped when they rounded the corner and laid eyes on what should have been their deathbeds. For a moment, they stood in the doorway, paralyzed by shock and fear. At the sight of his companion's blood smeared over every surface in the room, Pippin became sick, rushing to the corner of the room to empty his stomach.

Frodo's attention, however, went immediately to the far wall. Leaned against the wall, his head laid to the side, was Shadow, and in his lap lay the blood stained Sam.

"Sam!" Frodo sprang forward, but was stopped when Strider placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Cautiously, the ranger moved toward the duo on the floor. Gently, as though trying not to wake Shadow, Strider lifted Sam from the Jedi's arms and examined his face. He appeared to be only sleeping.

"Samwise?" Laying Sam on a pile of bedding, the ranger spoke softly, and the hobbit responded by drawing his eyebrows into a frown. Slowly, to the delight of his companions, Sam opened his eyes and looked around.

"Mister Frodo," he said quietly, looking at his master. "He said you would be alright…said he'd make everything alright, he did."

"Sam, where are you hurt?" Strider lifted the hobbit's clothes to find the source of the blood that covered the room. He saw nothing on the Sam's pale skin…no marks at all! Not even the tiniest of scratches!

"I…I'm not hurt," Sam frowned, trying to remember what had occurred that night. "I mean, I was, to be certain, but now I'm not." Strider and the hobbits stared at him in utter confusion. "I suppose that's what Shadow was doing when he…where's Shadow?" Sam became suddenly frantic, having been hit hard with the horror of what he'd survived. He jumped up and scanned the room, suddenly feeling sick himself, but he swallowed it back, searching for the dark man he called "friend".

Seeing the Jedi slumped against the wall, tears sprang to Sam's eyes. He remembered the sound of Shadow's wet cough after the battle with the Nazgul. He remembered watching Shadow roll up his own sleeve, holding the very knife that had pierced Sam's side…a wound that was now non-existent.

"Mister Shadow…" he whispered through his tears.

Strider now knelt by the Jedi's side. Hesitantly, the ranger moved his hand into the black mist that hid Shadow's features. He drew his hand back when it met the Jedi's lips. He was shocked to find that the wetness that had caused his reflexive withdrawal was crimson blood.

"He fought off five of the Black Riders," Sam's voice trembled with his words. "That's what it did to him."

"No blade may touch a Nazgul without bringing a black spell down upon the wielder of the blade," Strider spoke in quiet wonder.

"Well, his touched four of 'em," Sam sniffled.

"And my guess is that this is not the first time," Frodo spoke up thoughtfully. "I overheard him speaking with Goldberry, and she cautioned him not to stand against them until he'd healed fully. He's been fighting with them since our journey began."

Strider gazed on the shrouded man before him with new respect. He looked around to see the empty robes of the four wraiths the Jedi had banished and shook his head.

_If he has survived this, he will indeed be as marvelous a character as the hobbits have portrayed, _Strider thought grimly as he reached out his hand once more. Knowing the location of Shadow's mouth, Strider aimed lower and his hand contacted the smooth skin of Shadow's neck. Gently, he pressed two fingers just below the jaw.

"He's alive," Strider breathed. He moved his hand upwards once more as the hobbits quietly celebrated behind him. Again, he found Shadow's blood smeared mouth, which he found to be shockingly normal in shape and feel given what Frodo had recently told him of Shadow's origin. Moving his hand up again, Strider placed it over Shadow's nose. The Jedi was indeed breathing, though it was shallow.

"Sam, I need you to tell me exactly what you remember about last night," Strider instructed as he moved to crouch beside Shadow. While he listened to Sam's story, beginning where he'd left the tavern, Strider took hold of Shadow's shoulders and used the trunk of his own body to lower the man to the floor. Again, the ranger was surprised by what he felt.

Despite his strength and courage, hidden beneath the layers of cloth the tall, mysterious man wore, his build was shockingly slight. Thin arms and shoulders were supported by a lean, muscular body that had been the last thing Strider had expected when he'd moved to support Shadow's decent to the floor.

To be honest, his assessment of Shadow had so distracted the ranger that he was barely listening at all until the very end of Sam's tale.

"…that's when Mister Shadow appeared out of thin air and started fighting with the Riders…to be honest, I don't remember much of that bit, but then after, I remember hearing Shadow coughing and wheezing and carrying on. He lifted the bed off me somehow, and I remember seeing him sorta fuzzy-like leaning over me. He rolled up his sleeve and held up the knife they'd stabbed me with, and…that's when everything goes blank." Sam sighed in frustration. "Next thing I know, I'm looking up at you lot. I don't know what happened to Mister Shadow after that."

"I'll tell you what happened," Strider's voice was a mixture of sorrow and awe as he lifted the Jedi's lifeless arm. He pulled back the black sleeve and pulled up the glove to reveal the make-shift bandage Shadow had tied around his wrist to stop the flow of blood after he'd rescued Sam. The tie had worked for the most part, but blood continued to seep around the tight knot.

"What's that?" Merry leaned over Strider's shoulder to examine the bandage.

"It would appear that your friend somehow saved your life, Sam," Strider shook his head in amazement, "by slicing his own wrist. I don't know how he did it…or what exactly he did, bu—"

"I cut my wrist, and used my abilities to transfer my blood to him," Strider almost fell backwards in shock at the Jedi's sudden voice. With a groan, Shadow pushed himself up into a sitting position. "I then used my abilities to knit the cells inside his wound back together…something like this."

To the horror of those watching, Shadow suddenly removed the bandage from his arm causing a new river of blood to cascade to the floor. He took a deep breath and held a hand inches above the wound. The onlookers watched in amazement as first blood vessels and then skin came together and bonded, leaving only a thin line as evidence there had been a wound at all.

"It was taxing on so severe a wound as Sam's, but it would seem it paid off in the end."

"That's incredible," Strider breathed. "How does it work? Can all of your people do that?"

"All have the ability," Shadow said slowly, cradling his head in his hands, fighting to remain sitting. "I am one of the few who have taken the time to master the art, however. It is a limited skill, and not quite as useful in the galaxy of the Jedi as it would be here."

"How do you mean?" Pippin pressed. "I don't see how that could possibly _not_ be useful." Shadow thought for a moment before responding.

"It would still be useful, I suppose, but only for simple, everyday wounds. Most of the weapons there are like my lightsaber, which is pure energy harnessed into a single beam of light." Shadow went ahead and paused to answer the question in their eyes before they asked it. "Think of the sun. If you're in its rays for too long, it burns you, right? Well, if you were to take the rays of a thousand sunny days and concentrate them in one place…that would be one lightsaber."

"Now," he continued, "for the process of healing, one must simply understand the biology of cells and tissues, which I picked up a great deal of knowledge about in my travels to the future. I simply use the Force to control cellular production on a molecular level and "knit" the severed tissue back together. However, when a wound is inflicted by such a weapon as my lightsaber, the tissues are destroyed…burned away. There is nothing left to put back together. Additionally, even if the wound is a cut or stab, if the person is already too far into the afterlife, I cannot retrieve them. Luckily this time, I was able to get to Sam before that point of no return…also luckily, he's a small being, so I was able to spare enough blood to keep him on this side of eternity."

"But you almost gave enough to send yourself to the other side," Strider commented.

"Indeed…" the reply was soft…dark. "Well, we'd better start preparing for the rest of our journey. I only delayed the Nazgul for a short time. They will return."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Strider protested, "You almost _killed_ yourself last night! We should stay put for at least a few days to let you heal."

"Staying here won't let me heal," Shadow's answer was flat and firm. "As I just said, they _will_ return. It's only a matter of how long it takes them to regain their forms, and this time, they won't be fooled by cheap tricks like the one we almost pulled off last night. I cannot encounter them again this soon after a battle with them or I will certainly die and will not be of any more help to you. We need to get on the road."

Shadow struggled to stand. The very attempt left him reeling. His blood supply was still critically low, and every inch of his body burned with excruciating pain from the last night's efforts.

"Besides," he gasped, leaning on the window in order to maintain his stooped posture, "I'm a Jedi…the Force will accelerate my healing once I am able to fully tap into it again."

The hobbits had never unpacked their things the previous night, so preparing for the journey was a simple matter. With a great deal of assistance, Shadow was helped on to a scraggly little pony Strider purchased for the journey. Once seated there, the Jedi lay forward against the pony's neck, losing consciousness once again.

The Jedi was astonishing his companions with his resilience, but he was nowhere near out of the woods, and everyone knew it. It was up to Strider now to guide them on a road that would put the most time and distance between that moment and the next encounter with the Nazgul, hopefully not meeting with them again at all. Shadow's life…and perhaps the lives of them all depended on it.

_**~#*ITS*#~**_

**A/N: I know this is really soon after the last chapter, but I had a moment, so I thought I'd write with it. Haha! I bet you can guess that though they will try, another encounter with the Nine is inevitable…we can't just leave out Whethertop, now can we? :] You know the drill! Reviews wanted and welcomed!**


	10. Chapter 9: Weathertop

"What do these things eat when they can't get hobbit?" Pippin fumed as yet another one of the midges took a hunk out of his arm. They had been travelling an entire day when they reached the Midgewater Marshes, and the hobbits were getting tired.

"How much longer until we can rest, Strider?" Merry questioned.

"When the sun has fully set behind the mountains…we will only have a few more miles to go," Strider commented back, much to the dismay of the hobbits. The ranger paid them no heed, however as he knew that to stop now, in daylight on the marshes with absolutely no cover, would mean death for them all.

"Well, at least then we'll be rid of these infernal midges!" Pippin spoke up again. He thought for a moment before speaking again. "Wait…am I the only one who's not had a bite in the last few minutes?"

"I haven't either," Sam remarked. It seemed as though none of them had been bitten since Pippin made his initial comment.

"They won't be bothering you again, friends," Shadow groaned and sat up in the saddle of the pony for the first time since they had left Bree.

"Shadow, are you strong enough to do that right now?" Frodo looked at the man in black with concern. Shadow responded by dismounting the pony, Bill, and taking his place at the front of the group with Strider.

"If I couldn't keep a few bugs away, I would truly be in rough shape," he laughed. He then said softly to Strider, "Truthfully, though, I wouldn't have been able to as of this morning…thank you for heeding my advice." Strider nodded respectfully.

_**~#*ITS*#~**_

Hours passed, and night fell over the Midgewater Marshes. The weary travelers had long left the sticky, smelly place, however, and were camped warily in the forest a day's journey from Weathertop. As of yet, the journey had been quiet. Strider was one of few who knew this road, and they had eluded the black riders during their flight from Bree.

One by one, the hobbits drifted off to sleep, and eventually, only Shadow and Strider remained, staring out over the marshes from their little hill that overlooked them. Under the starlit sky, the place had an almost beautiful quality about it…so long as it wasn't being viewed from the inside.

"This is the road to Weathertop, is it not?" Shadow's voice was quiet, so as not to disturb the sleeping hobbits.

"It is," Strider replied just as softly. The ranger looked at the mysterious man. Something in the Jedi's voice told him the observation hadn't pleased him.

"Is there no other way?"

"There is no place better defended," Strider thought for a moment. "This is also the most direct route from our current location. Any others would take us days out into the wilderness. Why? What do you suspect?"

"I suspect nothing," Shadow's voice grew dark. "I know that on October the 6th, when we stop at Weathertop, the Nazgul will attack, and Frodo will be gravely injured."

Strider stared at him wide eyed. This truly was the only road available to them, but could they take such a risk?

"What do you suggest we do?" Strider questioned. Shadow was silent for a moment, thinking.

"It would seem we have no choice but to make a stand at Weathertop," his Jedi mind was racing. They certainly could not afford to spend days in the wilderness with Nazgul on their trail, but he'd not yet had enough time to heal from the last encounter. As if to punctuate the thought, a sickening pop sent the Jedi to his knees.

"Shadow?" Strider knelt beside him, resting a hand on the cloaked back. "Shadow what was that?"

"That," the Jedi gasped, "was one of my ribs popping into place…it would seem that a few were dislocated in addition to the broken ones. The Force is still working on healing me."

"If that's the case, can we really afford an encounter at Weathertop?" Strider's brow furrowed in thought.

"He is priority," Shadow pointed toward the sleeping Frodo. "We cannot risk keeping him out in the open for longer than we have to. At least at Weathertop we will know what to expect."

Strider nodded.

"Then Weathertop it is…I will follow your lead."

"You should follow no one, Aragorn." Shadow patted the ranger's shoulder before going to catch a few hours' sleep before his watch began. Strider stared after him with a million questions. Who was this man?

_**~#*ITS*#~**_

The next day passed without much event. The travelers kept a wary eye on the road before and behind them, and by nightfall, they'd arrived at the old watch tower known as Weathertop. The hobbits were busily setting up their camp while Strider and Shadow examined the environment around them.

"There was a battle here," Strider commented, looking at the scorch marks on the rocks and ground around them. Shadow only nodded, pointing to a small mark on one of the boulders. "Gandalf's signature? Gandalf battled here?"

Again, the Jedi only nodded in response. He stood tall and made his way swiftly to where the hobbits were busily unpacking.

"Don't unpack tonight, little ones. Only what you need."

"I'll go scout the area…see—"

"No!" Shadow cut the ranger off, "That is what they want you to do. You need to stay with the hobbits at all times." Strider examined the small, frightened faces around him and nodded. "I will go down and get wood for a fire. I'm faster."

With that, the Jedi disappeared into thin air. Strider and the hobbits unpacked what they would need for the night, and piled the rest together by a large boulder. Within minutes, Shadow was back with them, arms full of firewood.

The Jedi piled the wood, readying it for a massive fire, but did not light it.

"The flames would be a beacon for them," Shadow explained. Strider pulled him to the side while the hobbits busied themselves eating some of the fruit they'd collected throughout that day.

"What did you sense?"

"There was no trace of their evil in the valley," the Jedi's tone was darkened still. "But they will come."

"Will we be able to elude them by not building a fire?"

"It will slow them down," Shadow nodded. "They are drawn to the Ring, however…they will come. I hope to slow them down by not giving them anything to pinpoint our location."

"So we will light the flame when they are upon us," Strider nodded, comprehending the Jedi's plan.

"Blades bring down the curse," Shadow nodded, "but fire does not."

"Please," Strider grabbed the Jedi's arm, "do not fight unless you must." Shadow nodded in reply.

Shadow gathered the hobbits and quietly explained what was going to happen that night…leaving out the part where Frodo was nearly killed. He planned to prevent that. The hobbits were frightened, but their faces remained brave.

"When they come, I will ignite the flame, and I want you each to stand with your back to it just like on the Barrow Downs, alright?" The hobbits nodded and prepared to do as they were told by moving their blankets to where they could even sleep by the waiting wood for the fire.

"They follow you well," Strider commented, "we may survive this night yet."

_**~#*ITS*#~**_

Strider and Shadow found themselves alone once again. This time, though, Shadow sat atop the lookout facing the west, and Strider, the east. Shadow felt the presence of the Nazgul before he saw them.

"They're coming," he said calmly as he jumped down and moved toward the fire.

Strider, having seen three of them reaching the eastern side of the hill, did the same. Shadow roused each of the hobbits and set the tinder ablaze.

"Keep your blades out for defense only. Keep your backs to the fire." Here, shadow knelt before Frodo. "Do not put on the Ring…no matter how strong the urge becomes. They will use its magic against you this night." The Jedi then took his place between Frodo and Sam and waited.

Minutes felt like hours as the group awaited the oncoming storm. Strider gripped his two torches tightly. Suddenly, Merry let out a shriek as over the top of the ridge climbed five hooded heads. Through the mist and darkness, the Nazgul moved, closing in on their prey.

Shadow could feel Sam's fear growing beside him.

"Courage, Sam…stay close to me."

Frodo, too, was growing weak against the call of the Ring. Shadow knew the Nazgul king had to be disrupted, or he would lose both of the hobbits to fear and shadows. With a roar, he leaped forward and placed himself between the Nazgul and the hobbits.

"Dai," the king hissed, "you survived after all…shocking. You cannot be fully healed, however. What stupidity is causing you to stand against me again so soon?"

"If I remember correctly," Shadow spat back, "it was _you_ who fled out the window that night."

The two Nazgul beside the king shrieked in anger and advanced on the man in black.

"Shadow! Don't!" Aragorn yelled, running to the aid of the dark man. Shadow threw his arms out to the sides, sending the two Nazgul flying into the stone ruins.

"There is more than one way for a Jedi to fight," Shadow told the ranger. Strider could hear the wink in the man's voice. They had little time for celebration, however. Unlike the lightsaber, throwing the Nazgul did little to harm them, and they were soon back in the battle.

Aragorn fought as if dancing, using the torches in his hands to set the Nazgul alight, sending them shrieking into the darkness. Shadow remained before the hobbits, throwing back any of the riders that attempted to reach them.

Suddenly, though, he heard a sound that sent his blood running cold.

"Mister Shadow!" Sam cried, "Mister Frodo's gone, sir! Just vanished!" The cries were soon drowned by shrieks of the Nazgul.

"No No NO!" Shadow roared as he looked around desperately for any sign of the hobbit. He was too late, however. The Nazgul king shrieked in pain, before bearing down with his knife. As if off in the distance, a scream hit the ears of those in the battle. Along with it, though, the words of "Elbereth, Gilthoniel" rang clearly against the rocks.

Shadow raced forward, anger overtaking him as he drew his lightsaber and brought forth the glowing green light. Shocked, the Nazgul king stepped back. Aragorn yelled a warning as he threw one of his torches into the face of one of the riders, but Shadow was beyond hearing. So taken was he by his fury, that the pained cries of Frodo were all that filled his ears as he ran. If he didn't reach the hobbit now, the Nazgul would take him _and _the Ring, and all would be lost.

Not caring about the consequences, Shadow leaped, swinging the green light above his head and bringing it down through the robes of the Black Rider. Instantly, the blazing flames of the Nazgul magic filled his body, and he crumbled to the ground next to the empty robes of the wraith king. The other Nazgul fled, but they would not be gone for long.

"Shadow!" Strider ran to his fallen comrade. Shadow dragged himself onto his elbows and pointed to where Frodo had recently reappeared.

"F—Frodo!" he urged the ranger, blood dripping from his hood.

Sam and the other hobbits were already crouched over their injured friend. Frodo lay on the ground, writhing in pain. A garish wound marred his shoulder. Strider picked up the blade responsible and spat with disgust as it disintegrated.

"A Morgul blade…I have no power to heal this…Shadow?"

The Jedi lay still now with his head down. Strider stood, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach, and approached Shadow. The Jedi lay on his stomach with one arm reached out, palm up. Strider frowned as he got closer and saw that Shadow clutched something in his gloved hand. The Jedi had fought to prevent Frodo's wound, but had prepared for failure as well.

"Athelas?" he whispered before a grim smile crept over his lips. "Yes, Shadow, this will help our little friend." He turned to the others. "Merry, heat me some water. We need to hurry. I fear the wraiths will not tarry long."

_**~#*ITS*#~**_

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed my version of Weathertop! You know the drill. Comments welcome! ;)**


	11. Chapter 10: True Personhood

When Shadow woke, it was apparent that he was hanging upside down. When his blurry vision cleared, the Jedi found himself looking at…

_Wait…is that…_

"WOAH!" The Jedi was immediately sitting upright on the rear of Bill's scraggly body. Instantly, he regretted the sudden movement, but the pain he felt was better than the image he now had burned into his brain. "THAT was a little too personal with the pony…WHO LAID ME LIKE THAT?"

Shadow's companions were too overjoyed to see him alive to bother with answering his question.

"Shadow! Are you alright?" Sam ran to where the Jedi now stood next to the pony, over which Frodo was still draped on his stomach.

"Yes, yes, I'm alright," Shadow said absently as he approached Frodo. His hooded head cocked to the side as he observed Frodo's limbs dangling over the saddle. "That can't be comfortable," he muttered as he lifted Frodo's tiny, shivering body off the pony and cradled him in his arms.

"No," Sam sounded extremely saddened, "I didn't think so either, but it's the only way poor Bill could carry the both of ya…"

"Right," Shadow sighed. He looked fondly down at the rounded Halfling. "It's alright, Sam. Your Mister Frodo wouldn't mind."

"It's good to see you up and around, friend," Strider clapped the cloaked man on the shoulder. Shadow had difficulty reading the expression on the ranger's face. It seemed to be a combination of remorse, sadness, worry, and something else, but Shadow couldn't place it. "I was afraid the wraiths had claimed you as well."

The ranger's eyes fell to Frodo's face. Shadow examined it as well. The hobbit was pale, and shivered as though he were in a freezing rain.

"We warmed him by a fire for as long as we dared, but I feared the Riders would return, and we pressed on," Strider informed the Jedi, "I pray my judgment has not gone amiss."

"How long has it been since the battle?" Shadow asked, still gazing at Frodo's face.

"Not twelve hours," Strider frowned at him, confused, "The sun has yet to reach its highest point, and we left the watchtower two hours after the battle. There was no sign or feeling of the Nine, so we pressed on."

"Then your judgment has been perfect, Strider." Shadow raised his hooded head. "Do not doubt yourself. According to history, you made this journey without my help. You could do it again if need be."

With that, Shadow turned to the hobbits.

"Friends, Bill will not be required to bear Frodo and myself any longer. Please lighten your loads so that we may move all the more swiftly."

The hobbits did as they were instructed, and the journey began anew. Strider watched from where he walked beside the brooding Jedi as Shadow reached back to grab the tail of his cloak and throw it around his front and over Frodo. He knew this shielded the hobbit from any breeze and kept the left side of Frodo's body firmly tucked against his own to keep it warmer.

_**~#*ITS*#~**_

Five days passed with little event. Despite worries of another attack, the travelers passed over the Last Bridge and on almost to the Ettendales when Strider turned their course to the south, and a rainy night was passing under the shelter of a rock shelf. Frodo had awakened on and off during the journey and had tried to appear well during his waking hours, but he never left Shadow's strong arms except when they camped at night and he could be moved next to a blazing fire.

The Jedi could feel the hobbit's pain as the days dragged on, and he pushed the group to move as quickly as they possibly could. During his watch at night, Shadow often would drift to the fire, remove his glove and place a pale hand on Frodo's shoulder, singing songs of old to sooth the icy numbness and ease the hobbit's suffering.

"I would gladly take this from you," Strider had heard the dark man whisper one night when he thought everyone was asleep, "if only I knew how."

The sixth day of their journey dawned and early that morning, the group reached a location for which Shadow had been pressing. The group paused for a snack and a song from Sam in the shadow of the three trolls Bilbo had tricked into turning to stone all those years ago.

"We're a day ahead of schedule," Shadow informed Strider while the four hobbits ate, "We should not have reached this place until tomorrow afternoon. We may prevent cutting his fate so close after all…" Strider could not help but be encouraged by these words, but something about the last sentence made the ranger shudder.

The group had moved on, and evening light was beginning to fade when Shadow suddenly stopped as if listening.

"Our help has come at last," Shadow mumbled thoughtfully, "I wondered if our hurried pace would disrupt his tracking, but it appears as though it has not." He then turned to Strider. "Glorfindel has finally found us. He will be upon us shortly."

With that, the Jedi turned, and continued to walk with as hurried a pace as he'd held before.

"Should we not wait for him?" Strider called excitedly.

"He will catch up," Shadow spoke over his shoulder, "but the further down the road we are when he does, the better it will be for Frodo." With a nod, Strider ushered the remaining three hobbits forward.

The sun had fully set when the sound of hoof beats and bells reached the ears of the hobbits. Here, Shadow stopped and turned.

"This meeting may be strained at first," Shadow muttered to Strider. "Glorfindel will not know me in this form." Strider nodded, stepping in front of the Jedi. The hobbits crowded around Shadow as they waited. Shadow warily placed Frodo on his feet next to Sam and stepped back away from them.

Soon enough, around the bend in the road, came a magnificent horse and rider. The steed was brilliant white with a bridle that had precious gems laid into the supple leather. The rider himself was clothed in white, and his hood was down revealing brilliant golden hair. He stopped suddenly, shocked to find the road filled with travelers before him.

"_Ai na vedui Dunadan! Mae govannen!"_ he called as Strider went forward happily, embracing the elf-lord when he dismounted from the horse. The two of them spoke hurriedly in elvish before turning to the others. As soon as the elf laid eyes on Shadow, however, he drew his sword and advanced faster than any of the hobbits could see.

"Glorfindel!" Strider cried, but he was too late. Glorfindel's sword was already lunging toward Shadow's exposed chest faster than sight. Just when it should have hit the target, however, the Jedi was gone. The hobbits cried out in horror, drawing their own tiny swords and running to where Shadow had recently reappeared next to Glorfindel's horse. They stood defensively before their friend while the horse nibbled knowingly at Shadow's hood.

"I was afraid you wouldn't know me as I am now, Glorfindel of Imladris," Shadow spoke softly, "It's alright, little friends, I think Glorfindel is at the point of remembering…"

The Jedi moved forward, hands raised in submission as he approached the elf-lord. When he'd fully passed Strider, Shadow brought on of his hands to his face, and Glorfindel gasped at what he saw. To the shock of Strider and the hobbits, the elf-lord dropped to one knee with a fist on his chest.

"Forgive me, Dai!" he spoke with new awe in his voice, "It was rumored that you had joined the hobbits, but few believed the reports. I was one of the doubters."

Shadow, having replaced the mist over his face, took the elf's shoulders and returned him to a standing position.

"A prince of elves should not be bowing to me," Shadow commented. "What news have you?"

"You know already, do you not?" Glorfindel challenged.

"Indeed," Shadow crossed his arms over his chest, "At least I know what is supposed to be occurring, but…there have been changes."

"There are five of the Nine behind us," Glorfindel's face drew up with concern, "I fear the others will be holding the Ford against us already."

"Shadow," Strider came up from behind, worry marked his face as he addressed his mysterious friend, "Can you stand against them again?" Shadow shot him an unseen look from beneath the hood. It was enough to silence the ranger, but Glorfindel hadn't missed the exchange.

"Tell me what has happened," the elf-lord demanded.

"Please do not exaggerate my involvement," Shadow sighed as Strider began his tale. He told of his meeting with the hobbits at the inn and of Sam's peril. Upon Glorfindel's request, Shadow showed the white scar that now adorned his arm. It was when Strider told of Weathertop that Glorfindel turned on the Jedi.

"You cannot do this!" he cried as Shadow stood with his arms folded across his chest defiantly, "You are too—"

"I KNOW, alright?" Shadow interrupted, "would everyone PLEASE quit reminding me? We have more important things to deal with right now. If this mission fails, my level of seeming importance will hold little value because EVERYTHING will be darkness. Can we please understand that?"

The hobbits watched in confusion as the "big people" bickered. Seeing Shadow throw his little fit made Pippin and Merry giggle. Frodo's pain had redoubled, however, and everything around him was fading into darkness and shadow. As he looked on the three men arguing before him, Glorfindel seemed to glow with a soft iridescence. The light of his people shone all about him amidst the darkness. What truly surprised the hobbit, however, was the bluish opalescence that surrounded Shadow. He'd never noticed that before…

Just then, it felt as though the blade of the Nazgul was piercing Frodo's shoulder once again, and with a chocked noise of agony, Frodo clutched at Sam's arm. Shadow turned instantly, leaving the conversation and rushing to Frodo's side. He lifted the hobbit gently and wound him in his cloak again as they had traveled for most of the journey.

"Damn," Shadow breathed, "the poison increased its speed with our own." Strider explained the Morgul blade and showed the hilt to Glorfindel as they made their way over.

"I trust you've been tending the wound?" Glorfindel spoke to Shadow.

"Indeed," the Jedi shook his head in frustration, "but it doesn't seem to have helped. We increased our speed in hopes that we could get to Rivendell before it got this bad, but it would seem the poison is not affected by time, so much as by the pull of the Nazgul. They have not lost our trail either. We must keep moving."

The next day and the night after that passed with little event. Frodo's days grew grey and formless while his nights became full of terrors untold. His only comforts came from the heat of Shadow's body as he carried him and from the light and voice of Glorfindel.

The next day after that, however, was full of expectation. Shadow had the last watch, and as the sun began to light the eastern sky, he went to wake Glorfindel.

"Be on your guard," Shadow told him, "If history holds true, we will meet the Nine this day…all of them. Five will be behind us, and four will be waiting at the Ford."

"I know you do not wish to speak of your value, Dai," Glorfindel looked hard at the hooded Jedi, "but in truth, you are a crucial player that we cannot afford to lose. Can you stand against them again?"

"I cannot again strike them with a blade, but I will stand if I must," Shadow replied, looking at Frodo, curled in a restless sleep by the fire, "You know I am not stupid, Glorfindel, and neither am I reckless. My history with the hobbit is irrelevant, and if my life is ended on this journey, it will not be needlessly. I would not have taken this guise if all I wanted was to toss my life away. I would simply throw myself before the Enemy. He knows me well as Shadow now, but he is still ignorant of my true personhood…and if everyone will stop _fussing_ over me, he will _remain_ ignorant."

The elf-lord nodded with a grim smile. This answer had been sufficient. Together, he and Shadow woke the hobbits and Strider. Glorfindel placed Frodo atop his magnificent horse, Asfaloth, and together, the weary travelers rode out to face their enemy and hopefully, to reach their destination alive.

_**~#*ITS*#~**_

**A/N: Well, well, another tidbit has been dropped! As you can see, I've chosen to follow closely with the book in this chapter…sorry if any Arwen fans were disappointed. Next chapter will hopefully follow in quick succession because it's exciting, and I delight in writing exciting parts. XD Comments wanted and welcome!**


	12. Chapter 11: A Jedi's Power

Fog twisted around the weary feet of the hobbits as they treaded along behind Glorfindel and Strider in the early morning light. Shadow stayed back, making sure none of them fell behind.

Frodo sat atop Asfaloth. It was obvious that he was fading fast. He no longer held the façade that he was alright. Instead, he sat slumped forward, clutching his shoulder with his eyes clamped shut; he couldn't see the terrors that flew before his waking eyes that way.

Sam remained just to the right of the horse, refusing to wander far from the side of his master. Pippin and Merry, the youngest of the group, stumbled along behind with Shadow between them. At one point, Shadow dropped to one knee quicker than sight and caught Pippin as the little hobbit fell forward.

"Aye, Little one, look sharp," he said gently as he pulled Pippin close to his body. "Come on, Meriadoc," he motioned to his back. Happily, the hobbit jumped on, ecstatic to be giving his feet a rest.

And so it was when Strider looked back to observe the group behind him: Frodo on horseback, Sam to his right, and Shadow now to Sam's right with one hobbit in his arms and another on his back. The ranger couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips at the sight.

"Shadow has always held a particular love of the halflings," Glorfindel said absently.

"Indeed," Strider responded, "he's almost given his life for them on more than one occasion already." Glorfindel gave a low grunt in response.

"Frodo is indeed very important, as you know," the elf frowned, "only Shadow knows fully what role he will play in all of this. It is a high one indeed if the Jedi places his own life below the halfling's."

"Alright," Strider threw his hands up, but still kept his voice low enough to only be heard by Glorfindel, "Who is he? You, an Elf-Lord _bowed_ before him. Who exactly is carrying those hobbits back there?"

"Shadow will reveal himself to you in due time," Glorfindel smiled, "He is protecting you by keeping his identity hidden. He has long been a thorn in the side of the enemy. Besides that, he is of extreme import to the empire of Starkaven in the West. Without him, Lady Daiel's people would be hard pressed to withstand an attack from the dark lord, and once he took down Starkaven, the Undying Lands would be obliterated, and from there, Sauron would gain control of everything…knowledge of Shadow's involvement in this venture would bring Mordor's forces down upon us one hundred fold."

"Why would he risk getting involved?" Strider looked at Glorfindel in amazement.

"He believes that if Middle Earth falls, even the help he could offer would not be enough to stop Sauron from taking over the world…and in Shadow's belief, this would cause all of time and space to fall into darkness." Glorfindel sighed. "Despite my deep respect for him, I sometimes fear that Shadow's love of this land has become too deep and clouds his judgment."

"Or perhaps the judgment of one who has watched the rising and crumbling of worlds untold should not be so easily doubted," Shadow commented as he and his load of hobbits took the lead in the trek. "You forget how sensitive my hearing is as well, Lord Elf," he added with a laugh.

Suddenly though, the Jedi stopped and turned his head to the side. All at once, he placed Pippin on the ground and grabbed Merry's wrists from around his neck. With a quick motion, he sent the hobbit flying into the air and caught him on the way back down, sitting him gently beside Pippin.

"They are upon us! FLY!" he cried as he smacked Asfaloth and jumped on the horse behind Frodo.

"_Noro lim, Asfaloth!_" Glorfindel cried. "Fall back, friends! They're after Frodo and won't hesitate to ride you down!"

With that, the hobbits, Glorfindel, and Strider threw themselves into the bushes as five of the riders plowed through the open space on the road.

"We must trust Shadow to get him safely across now," Glorfindel sighed when they had passed.

"Perhaps there is something we can do…" Strider mumbled as he grabbed two large sticks and proceeded to light them on fire. "Swords bring down the curse…but fire does not…"

_**~#*ITS*#~**_

Fear took hold of Frodo with an icy grip. The pain in his shoulder took his breath, and the only thing that held his sanity in place was the steady breathing of the man on the horse behind him against his back. In the wraith world where he now saw, everything was tinted blue from the glorious light the Jedi gave off. Ahead of him, though, Frodo watched as two more riders broke through the trees in an attempt to cut off their escape across the Ford.

Frodo felt as though the very knife of the Witch King was piercing his shoulder again as the shrieks of the Nazgul filled the air. Frodo threw himself forward onto the horse's neck, gripping his chest. Immediately, though, Shadow grabbed him back and held him tightly. Something was different this time, though.

Frodo felt an unnatural warmth spreading from where Shadow's right hand was placed firmly against his chest and shoulder. Looking down, Frodo saw that the Jedi had removed his black glove, and now a hand so pale it was almost blue tinted glowed brightly against his shirt. The hobbit felt more than he heard the Jedi singing loudly in an ancient tongue he did not understand despite the horror of the Nazgul around him. In his mind, a soft gentle voice spoke,

_Everything is going to be alright, Frodo. Fear not the darkness. It has no power over me, and I am with you._

Just then, though, when Frodo was sure that the voice was right and everything would be fine, two more riders emerged in the distance, directly in the path of Shadow and his frightened cargo. Before Frodo realized there had been movement, he found that he was in Shadow's arms, and the Jedi was standing on the hind quarters of the horse as it galloped fearlessly toward the enemy.

Just as they reached the line of Nazgul with their cold hands outstretched before their wispy, grey bodies, Shadow launched himself in the air and did a summersault, landing gracefully behind the black horses and continuing to sprint forward.

Five hundred feet still stood between Shadow and the river when he left Asfaloth's back, and the riders were catching up quickly. They had delayed slightly out of shock at the Jedi's desperate move, but they had quickly come back to themselves, and now all nine were trailing on Shadow's heels.

The Jedi turned and threw a gloved hand out behind him. With his motion, four massive trees came down across the road, barring the passage of the Nine. As they fell, Shadow leaped and slid between two of the trunks, narrowly missing being crushed beneath them. The trees would only delay the Nine for a few seconds, but it was all Shadow needed. He reached the river while the Nazgul were still going around his blockade, but it didn't matter now. He had succeeded.

Crossing the river hadn't been something Shadow had fully contemplated as he had leapt from Asfaloth's back, but it was of little consequence. As his booted feet reached the water's edge, Shadow reached out his hand. Under his foot and all the way across the river, large stones now hovered inches above the water's surface, and without hesitation, Shadow ran, using the rocks for a bridge as he went. As his foot left each one, it fell back to its home in the swirling abyss.

Only when Shadow reached the safety of the far bank did he pause to look back.

"You have lost this battle, Wraith King!" He called triumphantly.

"Give us the Halfling," came the hissed reply.

"I'm afraid that would go against my plans," Shadow smirked beneath his hood.

"Give him to us," something about the way the wraiths spoke sent a chill up Shadow's spine, "or we will end his pitiful life now."

Suddenly, in Shadow's arms, Frodo began to scream as the pain overtook him like never before. All at once, the screams ceased, and the hobbit clutched at his throat as though someone were strangling him. From across the water, a wicked laugh reached Shadow's ears.

"Frodo?" Shadow laid the hobbit on the ground, running his hands over him in a desperate attempt to block or dislodge the king's hold on him, but nothing worked. "Release him," he demanded icily, turning to face the Nazgul who had begun to cross the water.

"Give him to me, and he will live…for a time," came the taunting reply. In the distance, Strider and the others came running down the hill, but were caught at Shadow's obstacle.

This was to their own good, however, because the Jedi's anger was boiling. Shadow trembled from head to toe as a righteous fury took hold of him. Throwing his hands out to the side, he called upon the Force, and the ground began to shake. The Nazgul shrieked as their horses reared up in fear.

Shadow spoke words in the ancient elvish tongue, and the waters in the river began seething. From the river's upper end, a rumbling noise began, and soon, a rolling wave appeared sweeping down from the mountains. In the center of the wave, the form of a massive white dragon spread its wings and bore down on the Nine.

The Nazgul horses turned to flee, but Shadow was already acting to prevent it. He clenched his fists and the ground began to shake harder. The earth between the barrier of trees and the river began rolling like the water, and rose up into a wave of its own, forcing the riders into the path of the boiling dragon.

In an instant, the riders and horses were swept away leaving no trace behind, and all was quiet. With an absent motion, a breathless Shadow returned the land to its proper place, including the downed trees before turning to see about Frodo.

"Behold the power of a Jedi Knight, pushed to fury," Glorfindel nodded with a satisfied smirk.

"I'm just glad he's on our side," Strider replied in awe as they raced forward to reunite with their friends.

_**~#*ITS*#~**_

**A/N: What did I tell you? Excitement. XD Tune in next time for…not necessarily excitement…but certainly some interesting happenings at Rivendell. =)**


	13. Chapter 12: Friend or Clever Foe?

_**A/N: I. AM. SO. SORRY! Life has been a little…okay a lot…hectic of late, and I've had absolutely no time to write…and my muse took a vacation as well for the last few months, but things are slowly calming down as the new job is coming together and we're almost finished with the process of moving in to our new home, so don't expect future chapters to have NEARLY that large of a gap between them. Oh, how I've missed you all! **_

_**Thank you, thank you for all your kind comments on the last chapter. We've gained some new readers in my time away, and I hope my absence hasn't scared them off. Anywho, I'm going to shut up now and get on with the reason you've come to this page…the latest chapter of In the Shadows! *I don't own StarWars or LoTR. Only Shadow is 100% mine!* **_

_**~#*ITS*#~**_

"He's awake," The voice behind the stoic Jedi barely drew a response as Shadow stared icily at the shards of Narsil where they lay on their pedestal, his thoughts lost on ages past.

"I know," he breathed, not looking toward the grey man standing to his right.

"He is…inquiring as to your whereabouts," Gandalf sighed, not bothering to hide the disdain in his voice.

Shadow sighed heavily, turning from the broken blade to look wearily at the wizard before him.

"Then I shan't disappoint him," he folded his arms across his chest, leaning a hip on the pedestal, "unless the Lord Mithrandir has any objections…"

Gandalf's face was a stone barrier. It was true he did not trust the dark man before him, but it was also true that without this man's help, the quest would have certainly failed already.

"Please, friend," Shadow began again, "There is no need for pretense here. Speak your mind freely."

Gandalf paused for a moment, considering his options in this area.

"I'm not entirely sure how to get about this without being completely forthright," the wizard began.

"Perhaps I can help you," Shadow moved from his lounge on Narsil's pedestal to the balcony overlooking the valley. "You do not know me, and have no knowledge of my personhood, and therefore, even despite the goings on of the last several weeks, you do not trust me. Does that sound accurate?"

"Yes, very," Gandalf joined Shadow gazing out at the waterfall. "Though hearing it aloud makes it seem rather foolish, I suppose."

"Not in the slightest, my dear Gandalf," Shadow sent a sideways glance in the wizard's direction. "In fact, if you welcomed me with open arms, I would certainly question your judgment in such days. Enemies may go to incredible lengths to ensure your guard is down."

"A worthy answer indeed," Gandalf raised an eyebrow at his companion. "And now I believe we have come to the root of this problem."

"Who am I?" Shadow turned and sauntered back to the pedestal, away from the window. "Am I truly friend? Or am I nothing more than a very clever foe?"

Unsure how to respond, Gandalf moved back into the shadowy room and watched Shadow as the mysterious man ran his gloved fingers across the blade's shards.

"To my reckoning, this will be the last time I will be able to safely reveal myself until Lothlorien is reached…and that would be a far too long to beg your blind trust, I'm afraid." Shadow sighed and turned to Gandalf with what could only be described as sadness in his stance as his face was still hidden behind the misty blackness.

Carefully, the Jedi reached up with those gloved hands and grasped the edge of his hood. Despite his calm demeanor, Gandalf's heart pounded in his chest as the hood lowered leaving only the misty silhouette of a head behind. He couldn't help the gasp that escaped his lips when Shadow passed a hand in front of his face causing the mist to disappear.

"Oh, my dear child!" the wizard exclaimed, rushing forward to embrace the Jedi before him. "What the devil are you doing here? You should never have placed yourself in the middle of this madness! Does Elrond know you're masquerading around like this?"

"I'm sure he is aware," Shadow laughed, returning Gandalf's embrace. It had been almost a century in Middle Earth's timeline (and several centuries in his own) since his last meeting with the wizard, and Shadow had sorely missed him. "I highly doubt anything enters his domain without his knowledge…and you do remember that I'm actually quite a bit older than you, right?"

"Yes, technically," Gandalf laughed, "but if you would stick to your original timeline, I'd be the elder here."

"That, I cannot argue with," Shadow chuckled.

"In all seriousness, though," Gandalf's tone grew darker as his bushy brow furrowed, "how will Starkaven fare without you guarding its borders?"

"They will survive. They thrived before me. They have learned to deal with my absences over the years. I'm not worried about them. In fact, before this is over, I expect them to prove most useful to us."

"That, I will be interested to see," Gandalf clapped the Jedi on the back as Shadow hurriedly replaced his hood and the black mist that obscured his features. "As much as it troubles me to see you risk so much on this quest, I cannot say your presence with us is not a comfort."

"I'm not sure it should be such," Shadow's voice was filled with sorrow as he spoke, "Gandalf, I'm not sure my being here was such a good idea."

"Nonsense!" the wizard looked highly offended. "Without you, Frodo and the others would have failed already."

"I'm not so sure about that," Shadow's hood shook in his doubt. "In the stories told in the future, they made it just fine with only Strider to help them."

"But the road would have been far harder."

"Would it?" Shadow became suddenly frustrated, raising his voice slightly in his distress. "My being here didn't prevent Frodo's injury…and Sam! Dear, God, Sam! He was never supposed to have been in that room at Bree. In the stories he was completely safe with the others. Gandalf, my very _being_ here has so altered the timeline that _I'm _not even sure of the outcome now! How can I be certain I won't lead them to utter ruin!?"

Gandalf was silent for a moment.

"That isn't true, Mister Shadow," a small voice caused the wizard and the Jedi to jump as Sam slowly moved from where he'd been standing around a corner. "Begging your pardon for intrudin', but that isn't true what you just said."

"Sam, how long have you been there?" Shadow's voice became a gentle murmur as he knelt to the hobbit's height.

"Not long," Sam answered truthfully, "but I did hear your rant to Mister Gandalf about being more harm then help, Sir, and that's just not true."

"Sam—," Shadow started, but the hobbit cut him off.

"You've kept us safe from the moment we stepped out of Bag-End, and probably a good long time before that. When we didn't know you were there, Mister Frodo and me were scared out of our wits, but after what you did for us in the Old Forrest, we weren't scared no more so long as you were around, Mister Shadow. I don't know what we woulda done without you on those Barrows. We were scared stiff and wanted to run mad, but you told us to stay put, and that's what we did.

"And don't you go blamin' yourself for the Inn. That was my own fault for wanderin' off an' not payin' no mind to what was around me when I came back. You fixed it though, Mister Shadow. You can't even tell I was hurt at all no more." Sam lifted his shirt and pointed to what should have been a marred line on his side as evidence before continuing.

"Anyhow, Mister Shadow, I can't stop you from weighing out all the bad things that happened on the way…but please don't feel guilty over me. I couldn't bear the thought of it. And don't count our peace of mind for less than it was. If nothing else, know that you gave us that…I hope that you see the truth though. I hope that you see how much you really did for us. It wasn't easy, but between you and Mister Strider, we all made it here safe, and I'd say that's quite a trick."

Shadow sat in stunned silence while Gandalf stood behind with his arms over his broad chest, a satisfied smirk adorning his aged face. Two drops of water glittered on their way to the floor as they fell to the floor from the abyss of Shadow's face. Slowly, the Jedi leaned forward on his knees and embraced the little hobbit.

"You're a gem, Sam," he breathed, "an absolute gem."

"I don't know about that, Sir," the hobbit grinned, "but I can make a mean rabbit stew. I'll have to cook you up some one of these days. But for now, Mister Frodo's lookin for you, Sir."

Shadow allowed Sam to take his hand and lead him down the hallway to where Frodo had slept for so many days. Behind them, Gandalf leaned on the wall and watched them go.

"This quest may yet have hope."

"Yes," Gandalf spoke to the elegant elf as Elrond slid up to the podium where he stood, "It worries me that Starkaven's jewel runs headlong into such grave danger…"

"But having Shadow fighting alongside us might just give us what the west needs to succeed in this suicide venture…" Elrond finished the grim thought as he watched the powerful Jedi be dragged down the hall by the smallest of creatures. "That heart will accomplish great things."

"It has already," Gandalf replied as he turned to walk away.

_**~#*ITS*#~**_

_**A/N: There you have it! I hope the gap hasn't caused the story to lose anything. Make sure to leave comments and/or constructive criticism!**_


	14. Chapter 13: The Council

Frodo sat, observing the table around himself. A feast, the likes of which he'd never seen before, lay in front of him in a magnificent spread that seemed to go on forever. And for the whole length of the table, in every available space, a smiling faces laughed as they dined and enjoyed each other's company. Such was eating at the table of the Lord Elrond.

Beside Frodo sat Sam, but otherwise, he was surrounded by acquaintances. The hobbit glanced up and down the table searching for more of his friends. At Elrond's right hand sat Gandalf, and to his left, Glorfindel sat in all his high elven splendor. Beside Gandalf, Strider reclined while they seemed to be buried in deep discussion. Pippin and Merry were about halfway down the opposite side of the table, but Shadow was nowhere to be found. Frodo had only seen the Jedi once since he'd awakened. There was quite a bit he wished to ask him.

After dinner, Frodo followed the crowd of people into the Hall of Fire where the party would relax and exchange songs. It was there that Frodo found Bilbo. The old hobbit was sitting off to the side scribbling away at a few verses he'd been working on. When Frodo sat, Bilbo looked up happily, welcoming his young cousin into his planning. Sam listened eagerly for a time, but as the hours drew on, sleep overtook him, and the hobbit fell asleep at his master's feet. Eventually, Frodo was so lost in their happy reminiscing that he lost all track of the happenings around the two of them.

Suddenly, Bilbo broke from their reverie with a playful frown.

"Has it become your custom to overlook old friends as if they weren't there?"

At first, Frodo wasn't sure what his cousin was talking about, but he quickly noticed the tall, cloaked man standing about six feet away and looking as though he'd stopped in mid stride. Slowly, Shadow turned to look down at the old hobbit. Frodo cocked his head to the side awaiting the Jedi's reaction. Had Bilbo met him before?

"Well met, my little friend," Shadow chuckled, taking a cross-legged seat with the two hobbits. "When did you see through the guise?"

"When you brought our Frodo in from the river, actually," Bilbo frowned in his thoughts. "I would have known it sooner if it weren't for your theatrics when you first showed up."

"Well," Shadow laughed, "I had to try and keep you guessing for at least a little while, didn't I?"

"You could have done that without scaring the pants off an old hobbit," Bilbo crossed his arms over his chest indignantly.

"My apologies, friend," Shadow continued to chuckle. Bilbo eyed the Jedi.

"And that outfit…" The old hobbit shook his head. Shadow looked down at his clothing. Shockingly, though they had been through a long and difficult journey, the cloth remained completely intact without a single tear or stain to be seen.

"What exactly is wrong with my outfit?" The Jedi feigned insult.

"Nothing, I suppose," Bilbo frowned, deep in thought. "It's just a bit morbid, perhaps…too much black for one such as yourself…and it covers that magnificent face of yours! I swear if I had a face like that it'd never be covered. Those eyes—."

"Up-up! Hush now!" Shadow all but clamped a hand over the hobbit's mouth in his shock. "I do not wear this guise for the purpose of my own entertainment alone, my dear Bilbo." Frodo thought Bilbo would surely fall over he was now laughing so hard. Shadow sat back, chuckling himself. "It would be safest if as few people as possible know my identity, my friend."

"I suppose you're right," Bilbo looked like a child who's been told he can't have a cookie until after dinner. "It is a good surprise, though…perhaps I can tell Frodo once all this madness is passed?"

"Of course," though they couldn't see it, Shadow smiled contentedly. Perhaps one day, the Jedi would be able to show Frodo who he was…just not today.

~#*ITS*#~

The next morning dawned, clear and crisp as Sam bounced nervously along behind his master and Bilbo. They all followed Gandalf to the porch where Elrond was holding a grand council. When the small group entered the meeting, Sam marveled at the array of people he saw there. Gloin and several other dwarves that had been seated around him and Frodo the night before were there along with elves of Elrond's household and many that seemed to belong to another realm. A man was among the company; broad and proud he sat with his head held high as if trying to prove his status among so many of the fair people. In a solitary corner sat Strider with his weather-worn travel clothes wrapped tightly around his masculine form. In the opposite corner, mostly hidden by the shadows cast by the rising sun, sat the Jedi.

Sam made for this corner when Frodo was being introduced to the company by Elrond. Sam couldn't fully explain the draw he felt to the dark man, but a sense of security was always quick to wash over him in Shadow's presence.

"Good morning, Sam," Shadow's tone was bright and affectionate despite the overly gloomy mood of the group that gathered on the vast porch.

"Mornin', Mister Shadow," Sam returned quietly, placing himself snugly against the shins of Shadow's long legs on the ground.

From their corner, the two of them listened quietly to the goings on of the council. They heard Gloin speak of a messenger of doom from the black gates of Mordor coming to enlist the help of the dwarves of Erebor. They listened while Elrond told the story of the Rings of Power from its long, almost forgotten beginning.

Sam's eyes were drawn to the tall man he'd seen before; Boromir, they'd called him. He was the son of the steward of Gondor, and he was very proud of his land as evidenced by the number of times he interjected into Elrond's tale to reinforce the point. When he wasn't speaking, though, Sam noticed that Boromir glanced often at the dark man on which he leaned. Shadow either didn't perceive Boromir's inspection or didn't care enough to acknowledge it, as his blackened hood remained trained on Elrond as if hanging on every word the elflord spoke.

Almost before Elrond could complete his account, Boromir stood and began speaking. He wished to tell of the glory of Gondor, of which there was but a little left if truth be told. He told of new horrors from Mordor that the men of Minas Tirith alone had kept at bay.

Sam frowned, suddenly becoming concerned. From where he leaned on Shadow's leg, he had felt the Jedi's every move since the council began. Only now, while Boromir spoke, Shadow didn't move at all. He remained perfectly still, tensed as if waiting to spring.

Boromir shared with those gathered a riddle that had come first to his brother and then to himself in a dream. It was revealed that the riddle spoke of the One Ring and of Frodo, the Halfling who bore it. The "sword that was broken" was the sword of Elendil which cut the Ring from the hand of Sauron thousands of years earlier, and Strider was the heir to that destiny.

"Now that you have seen the sword that was broken," Aragorn asked with a hard look, "what would you ask of those gathered here? Do you wish for the house of Elendil to return to the Land of Gondor?"

"I was not sent to gather reinforcements," Boromir spat back proudly, "but to ask the answer to a riddle. We are wearing down against so harsh an enemy, however, and Isildur's heir would be a help beyond our asking…if such a man exists outside of children's bedtime stories…"

At this, Shadow inhaled sharply and twitched forward ever so slightly as if fighting with the urge to tackle the proud man who stood before Aragorn.

Bilbo was quicker, however, and burst out a rhyme.

"All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not touched by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken:

The crownless again shall be king!

"Not the best, but it hits the point if Elrond's faith isn't enough to suit you. If that was worth a journey of a hundred and ten days to hear, you had better listen to it." The old hobbit sat down indignantly.

Behind his back, Sam felt Shadow relax ever so slightly with what Sam could have sworn was a soft chuckle. Aragorn continued the thought, but with less fire behind his words.

He spoke of the Dunedain that guard the north. He told of his many travels that caused what Boromir considered a long journey from Gondor to Rivendell to pale in their comparison. He told of the evils that slither past the "ever vigilant" watch of the men in the south—the evils from which he and his men have ceaselessly defended the common people for generations. He spoke of the disdainful names the Dunedain are given by the simple people who are allowed to remain simple through their ignorance of the dangers all around them.

"But now the world is changing once again," Aragorn said at length, "A new hour comes. Isildur's Bane is found. Battle is at hand. The Sword shall be reforged. I will come to Minas Tirith."

Boromir stood with his arms folded across his burley chest. He demanded proof of the Ring's authenticity.

It was then that Elrond called for Bilbo and Frodo to tell their stories. After these, at the prodding of one of the Elf-Lords, Gandalf told his tale of Saruman's treachery. He told of how the White Wizard had fallen to his own lusts and had decided to build himself up as a rival to Sauron instead of battling to end the evil of the Ring altogether. It was told of Gollum and his time with the Ring before Bilbo's finding of it. Legolas, son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood Forrest relayed the distressing news of Gollum's escape from their watchful guards.

When the tale was finished, the full account of the Ring had been given from beginning to end, and the time came to decide what to do with it. The suggestion was tossed up to leave the Ring with Tom Bombadil. To this, Sam heard Shadow heave a sigh. He could almost picture the eyes hidden beneath the hood rolling in frustration. Debate broke out over whether to try and destroy the Ring or vainly attempt to hide it. Those in the council knew that nothing within their power could break such a powerful weapon, and hiding would only delay the inevitable.

"It must be taken to the fiery mountain and be cast into the flames from which it was born." Elrond said finally, "that is the only way to end Sauron forever."

"Why are we speaking of destruction and hiding?" Boromir stood again, and again, Shadow tensed. "Why do we not use this power for the good of all the free peoples?"

"Nothing touched by this Ring can be used for good," Elrond spoke firmly. "It is a device of corruption and hate. It devours even the best of intent and uses it for its own vile purposes. Anyone using this evil as his own would do nothing more than replace Sauron as the Dark Lord, and we would have taken steps backward instead of forward. Nothing that is evil was begun that way. I will not take this thing to hide it. I certainly will not take it to use it."

"Nor I," Gandalf shook his head.

Boromir was not convinced, but he dropped the discussion.

"The Ring will be taken to the Fire," Sam's eyes were drawn toward a new voice. Amidst a small group of lavishly dressed individuals, all with hoods over their faces, a man stood. Lowering his hood, the fairest and strangest face Sam had ever laid eyes on was revealed.

The man's skin was so pale it almost seemed to glow a faint blue. Long silver hair fell from the silken hood and shimmered gold in the sunlight. The man's face was clean-shaven with high cheekbones and a sharp, strong jawline. The eyes were what stood out in his handsome visage; they were a bright electric blue, the vibrancy of which Sam had never seen before.

Many of the elves present stood in shock when the man was revealed. They murmured excitedly amongst themselves. This being and the people with him were sea elves, born in the undying lands. It was a rare occurrence for them to venture into Middle Earth, and few of this council had seen them before.

"Galdor of the Havens," Elrond, still in his seat, motioned for him to continue, "What news from Cirdan the Shipwright?"

"My Lord, Elrond," Galdor bowed low, "My Lord Cirdan has received word from the Lady Daiel of Starkaven. Her advisor has forseen the journey of a company from Imladris on the errand to destroy the One Ring." At this, a hush fell over those listening. Sam felt Shadow fidget awkwardly.

"She sent us word at once to ready ourselves for battle," Galdor continued. "She fears that the battle will be too much for the armies of Middle Earth and has vowed to send her aid if summoned. I have come on an errand from Lord Cirdan to relay and match her vow. My Lord offers his aid as well."

There were many gasps from those listening. This was unheard of. Such a thing hadn't happened in millennia if ever. Never did those native to the Undying Lands venture into Middle Earth, and now the armies of two kingdoms from them were being prepared to aid in the battle?

"So much help from the West is unexpected," Elrond mused, "I had received Lady Daiel's vow, but now to hear of Cirdan as well…"

"My Lord bade me bring this to the Company of the Ring," Galdor turned and a woman brought forth a white dove in an elegant cage. "We were told that the Great Battle would occur in the lands of Gondor. Lord Cirdan requests that this dove be released when the company first reaches Lothlorien so that we will have time to make the journey thence."

"I do not think that will be necessary," Elrond smiled grimly, "There may be other means of getting word to your Lords. Shadow?"

Reluctantly, the Jedi rose and moved forward, stepping over Sam as he did so. Galdor's piercing eyes widened at the sight of the cloaked man, and he dropped instantly to his knees along with the rest of his company.

"Forgive me," Galdor spoke to the ground, "I fear we have come too late and may have only repeated the words that the Wise of this company have already heard."

"No," Shadow reached down to pull the sea elf to his feet. "I spoke to Lord Elrond on behalf of the Lady Daiel only. Cirdan's decision was his own to make." Shadow paused, taking the small cage and examining the bird as he continued. "My Lord Elrond also forgets that there is no rule saying that I will survive in this venture long enough to personally take word to our help."

Sam could see in Elrond's stony visage that this last comment had not pleased him. Evidently Shadow meant a great deal to Rivendell's lord.

"What is the meaning of this?" Boromir broke in, "a group from someplace outside our lands butts into a council concerning Middle Earth and now suddenly we're bowing to a Nazgul that has somehow earned a seat among us?"

Sam stood in outrage to defend his friend, but before anyone had time to react, Galdor had Boromir by the shirt collar.

With his elegant face inches from Boromir's unshaven one, Galdor hissed, "You should not speak of things you do not understand, Little Man."

"Be still, Galdor," Shadow calmly laid a hand on the elf's arm, causing him to reluctantly relax and release Boromir from his grip. "I am somewhat of a frightening figure in this form. He does not know who I am. Even knowing my name would mean very little to one who has been shut away in the South for all of his existence. He cannot be held responsible for his ignorance."

"Well spoken, Master Jedi," Elrond's voice was even despite his own irritation. "And with that settled, it is time to bring this meeting to its true purpose. We must decide who will carry the Ring to Mordor."

_**~#*ITS*#~**_

**A/N: BUM BUM BUUUUUM! And the plot thickens. It would seem there is already a bit of tension in the ranks between our Shadow and Boromir of Gondor. (Forgive me, Boromir fans, but he has annoyed me from the first time I read LotR in the 3****rd**** grade. This is my way of taking out some of my irritation with this character.) Also, those of you who are fans of the book will notice that some of the quotes from the Council are directly taken from the chapter "The Council of Elrond". That is because for this part, there were things said that Tolkien nailed and if I had tampered with them in the slightest, it would have ruined the whole effect. Hope you don't mind.**

**Thanks so much for all of the reviews! I hope to get more with this chapter. I was slightly disappointed in one of them. It was a very nice, sweet, complimentary review, but I was told that a reader had stopped at chapter 4 when they learned that Shadow is an OC. "How very sad", I thought to myself, "that someone would limit the scope of their reading just because a character wasn't borrowed from someone else." I would like to remind everyone that at one point or another, every fictional character was an "OC". They haven't existed forever. By limiting yourself to only reading borrowed thoughts, you are only cheating yourself out of what could potentially be some of the best literature you've experienced thus far. (Not saying that's what mine is, but you get the point.) What if people would have stopped reading Tolkien's works when they learned that he'd made up the characters all on his own? We probably wouldn't still be reading it today, and that would be a tragedy for the ages. There are some EXCELLENT young or budding authors (and some seasoned ones who are just having some fun) on this site, and they deserve some solid readership, and you deserve to let a good story to steal you away from reality for a while. Just some random food for thought. **

**Hope you enjoyed it, and I'll start cranking on the next chapter tomorrow seeing as how it sort of completes this chapter's thought. Haha!**


	15. Chapter 14: Remembering Happiness

The silence of the marching Fellowship was as thick as the underbrush through which they trudged. December had almost come to an end when the Company of the Ring set out from Rivendell. That was almost three weeks ago now, and the weary travelers were drooping into a worse depression than they'd been in when they left the last homely house.

For hundreds of miles the group had walked by night and slept in little hollows by day. Few words were spoken, and those that were held no joy or laughter. The feeling was altogether as cold as the icy weather around them.

Frodo found himself glancing around at the group during one of their many pauses along the way. His mind wandered back to the Council of Elrond and the events that had transpired there. He remembered Galdor and the other sea elves. Never had he dreamed of meeting one of the high of the fair. Elves born in the Undying Lands were lords of their people by nature. Even those that had been sent to the council—merely messengers and servants of their master—even these would have been considered Elven Lords to the fair ones who remained in Middle Earth.

With this knowledge, Frodo looked to Shadow. The dark, mysterious man had been instantly recognized by Galdor despite his apparently strange garb, and was regarded as a noble. Perhaps he was the advisor to the Lady Daiel that Galdor had referenced? Frodo wondered if he'd ever get to know the answer to that question.

Frodo's eyes went to Sam, sitting next to him on a log, laying out what would be dinner for himself and his master. Frodo thought fondly of how when he had announced to the bickering Council that he would volunteer to take the Ring, Sam had jumped up without hesitation to go with him. Such loyalty was to be admired.

After Sam, Gandalf had declared that he would be the one to show Frodo the way to Mordor. Aragorn had quickly stood, bowing before Frodo.

"My sword is yours," the Ranger had told him, "for so long as you desire it."

"You will have my bow as well," Legolas of Mirkwood had announced from where he, too, knelt before the overwhelmed hobbit.

"And my axe!" Gimli, the son of Gloin had interjected.

"I will be making for the halls of Minas Tirith," Boromir had said, "and until such a time as we reach them, I offer my sword to you as well, Ring-Bearer."

"Well," Elrond had nodded, standing, "seven companions we have here—"

"NINE!" Pippin and Merry had cried, springing from their hiding places in the bushes.

After shaking off his surprise, Elrond had smiled fondly, yet grimly, at the group before him. He knew the danger into which they now walked, but he knew also that nothing would convince them to turn away from this quest. Nothing yet, anyways.

"Very well," he'd said, "Nine walkers of the light against the Nine riders of the Dark Lord—"

"And one more for the Dark Lord himself," another voice had spoken up. Elrond did not turn to look at Shadow when he stood slowly behind the Elf-Lord. He did not acknowledge the horror on the faces of the sea elves as they murmured in their own tongue in disbelief. Instead, he bowed his fair head and sighed, then looked upon the group before him again.

Frodo couldn't mask the joy he'd felt knowing that Strider, Shadow, and Gandalf, along with all three of his friends would be among those who accompanied him on this terrifying journey. The road didn't seem nearly as daunting as it had when he'd first stood and spoken alone. Perhaps it was this joy that Elrond saw, and perhaps that is what caused his fair lips to turn ever so slightly upward into the smirk that adorned his face when he said,

"The Fellowship of the Ring. May the stars shine upon your faces even in the darkest places of the earth."

Now, though, all that joy had seeped away along with the heat of his body as Frodo and the others had traversed ever southward from the hidden vale. From his place on the ground, Frodo watched Gandalf and Aragorn, leaned over an old, tattered map, studying it by the dim light of Gandalf's staff. Legolas sat perched upon a rock, inspecting the feathers on his elegant arrows. Gimli was opposite the fair elf sharpening his axe. Boromir reclined against a tree and appeared to be sleeping. Pippin and Merry sat picking through a pile of provisions they'd brought.

"And after all that talk of being safe here in this…Hollin…place," Pippin complained, "I was so looking forward to a feast! I've almost forgotten the feel of hot food in my mouth with all this sneaking through the cold without a fire!"

"And I would love a pipe to smoke and something to warm my feet," Gandalf retorted, "but comfort was not in the description of this quest, I'm afraid, master Peregrin!"

Silence fell again for a moment before Shadow stirred. The Jedi had been sitting off by himself observing the countryside in the moonlight when he heard the small scuffle. Now, he moved into the center of the circled group with his arms over his chest.

"A warm meal, a pipe, and something to soothe Master Gandalf's feet," he spoke as though making a shopping list, "Any other requests for this evening's accommodations?"

Thinking the Jedi was calling for a cease to the bickering, everyone fell silent…except Sam.

"A spot of ale wouldn't be turned down, Mister Shadow," the hobbit spoke with all seriousness and without looking up from his pack. "And perhaps a bit of rope if you can manage. That's the only thing I forgot to pack…"

There was a moment of silence while everyone stared at the little hobbit before all of them burst into laughter. Sam looked up, at a loss for why his requests were humorous.

"Very well, Sam," Shadow said with laughter in his voice, "I'll add that to the list."

With that, the Jedi was gone. Disappeared into thin air. In an instant, Aragorn, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, and the two younger of the hobbits were on their feet.

"What just happened?" Aragorn demanded of no one in particular.

"He's just gone!" Merry gasped, rubbing his eyes. "He was there, and then he wasn't!"

"He's gone to get what we asked for," Sam replied casually, as though Shadow had done nothing more spectacular than strolling out of the circle.

"He can travel through time and space with as little as a thought," Frodo added.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by anything that man can do," Aragorn shrugged, calming considerably. The other five were not so easily quelled.

"Then he is a sorcerer?" Boromir looked as though Shadow had cast a curse upon him.

"He is a Jedi Knight," Gandalf sighed.

"They're from another galaxy," Sam went back to rummaging in his bag.

"That feat you just saw is but an effortless trick to him," Gandalf, too, returned to his previous activity. "Much like jumping or throwing a pebble for you and I. God only knows where he went…or when…but he'll be back in a moment or two."

Almost as soon as Gandalf had finished speaking, Shadow, laden with bags and boxes and looking like a demented Santa Clause, reappeared in their midst.

"What the devil?" Gimli rushed forward, inspecting the Jedi, poking him to be sure he was a solid person.

"Sorry, there's not really a way to prepare people for that," Shadow laughed, laying down his treasures. He hurriedly opened one large box, and the entire area became filled with the most glorious smell they had experienced since Rivendell. Inside the box were ten smaller packages. Starting with Pippin, Shadow handed each member of the company a steaming container.

"Here you go, little one," he said when he handed Pippin his dinner, "I believe you'll find the hot meal you requested in there." Opening the boxes, which were constructed of a strange material they had never seen before, they found what could have passed as a plate from Christmas dinner complete with roast turkey, mashed potatoes, steamed, candied carrots, stuffing, green beans, and buttered rolls. Each box included a fork and spoon of the same strange material as the boxes, only a harder, sturdier version.

Rummaging through a large bag again, Shadow pulled out a pipe with some of the Shire's famous Longbottom Leaf and a strange looking measure of cloth. Going over to Gandalf, he handed him both articles and instructed the wizard on how to turn on what he called a "heating blanket" that worked thanks to chemical reactions in something called "batteries".

"Oh! This is lovely, my good fellow!" Gandalf chuckled happily as he wrapped the toasty cloth around his frozen feet. "If only we'd thought to send you off sooner!"

Finally, going back to his bag, Shadow pulled out a measure of rope and tossed it to Sam. He then reached in both hands and pulled out two crates filled with bottles.

"It's not exactly ale…but this was easier to transport and will have much the same effect," Shadow continued giddily as he handed each member of the company a "Captain Morgan" before settling down to his own refreshments. He used a "bottle opener" on his own rum as a demonstration before tossing it to Sam who passed it on to the rest of the group in turn.

The hobbits, by now completely accepting of Shadow's oddities, were happily chatting as they stuffed their faces while Aragorn and Gandalf sat back to watch Boromir, Legolas, and Gimli look at each other with befuddled expressions.

"Don't think about it too much," Aragorn laughed, "With him around, it makes life easier just to expect the unexpected, and don't ask questions when the impossible happens."

With that, Gimli shrugged and dug greedily into the glorious food laid before him. Legolas reacted in kind, starting a soft, but happy song with the hobbits. Only Boromir still hesitated, poking warily at his turkey like it might bite him back.

Shadow looked around him at the faces of his companions. All were smiling; even Boromir once he finally got the nerve to try a green bean. He relished in the sound of Gandalf's mirthful laugh and Aragorn's proud chuckle. He watched Sam and the other hobbits dance to Legolas's song with renewed vigor while Gimli told stories of the little hairy women of his homeland that made Boromir cringe, trying to keep his recently ingested food where it belonged.

Even this first part of the journey southward had been difficult, and Shadow knew well the dangers that lay ahead of these people. Even though from their perspective they'd only just met him, as Shadow looked upon each of the faces around him, he loved them, and he vowed to do everything in his power to help each and every one of them see the end of this quest. It would be a long road, the hardest he'd ever faced, harder even than he with all of his future knowledge could imagine, but no matter how dark the road became, Shadow would always look back on this night and remember how even then, at the beginning of their journey, when untold danger and fear lay before, behind, and around them, he had made them smile. In the midst of misery, cold, and dark, with nothing but cheap carryout, a blanket, a pipe, and some rope, he had reminded them how to laugh.

Perhaps they would survive this after all.

_**~#*ITS*#~**_

**A/N: Hello Hello! Look at me, all updating on time and stuff like a big girl! This one's pretty lighthearted, and very much needed, methinks. =) Our heroes are about to face some pretty intense stuff, so it's nice to see them get to enjoy a night. You know the drill! Reviews and other such comments/PMs muchly welcomed! Cheers! *clanks Captain Morgan against whomever is willing to toast***


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